Forever & Always
by midnightwriter1898
Summary: When you think it's all over... It's never over. There's never an easy way out of the messes you were in before, just bittersweet memories and betrayals. Smitchie - Sequel to Shattered Glass
1. You Fixed Me

**A/N: **_Hey guys! This is the revised chapter of Forever & Always, and as you'll see soon it's going to be very different from what I had previously planned. Sorry, no tour for 'Smitchie' at the moment, at least :) Anyways, read it, and let me know what you think!_

_(P.S The song lyrics are supposed to be centered but since FF is evil.... we'll have to deal :)_

_Disclaimer: *Sigh* I'd forgotten about these evil munchkin things :) No, peeps, I think we've established that I don't own Camp Rock (No, not Camp Rock 2 either) Anyways, enjoy & review?_

_**

* * *

**_

_**I'm **awake I'm alive_  
_Now I know what I believe inside_  
_Now it's my time_  
_I'll do what I want 'cause this is my life_  
_here, right now_  
_I'll stand my ground and __never back down_  
_I know what I believe inside_  
_I'm awake and I'm alive_

* * *

**_xXx It turned out that going to Camp Rock won me the best summer of my life xXx_**

* * *

**I **spotted Aunt Clara's car the moment it pulled into the parking lot. With it's odd shape, odd color, and odd_ presence_, it caught my attention immediately, as if some sixth sense had kicked in at just the right moment. Or maybe I had eyes in the back of my head (just saying...). It's crazy. I can't believe that the summer was already over, that my journey at Camp Rock had to end so prematurely. I was only just beginning to find myself- to become who I used to be, and already it was time to go. Time for those hard final goodbyes, tie to back up and return to our lives before Camp Rock.

I was both upset & yet happy to see Aunt Clara's car pulling up - as much as I didn't want to leave Camp Rock or all the friends I'd made during my stay here, I couldn't wait to show Aunt Clara who I'd become over the course of the summer. I couldn't wait to let her know that I was _alive_ again, that I was _happy_. I could see her expression now- the shocked look as her hands flew to cover her mouth, and her eyes watering as she pulled me into a hug. I could see it all happening in my head as clear as day.

"Hey, don't think you can leave without saying goodbye, at the least." A hand wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me backwards into a warm embrace, and someone's head appeared, resting lightly on my shoulder, a sad smile on it's face. I returned the gesture, leaning back into his warm embrace & savoring the moment, closing my eyes & breathing in his sweet scent. How would it feel to not be able to lean on Shane, to see his smiling face keeping me going each day?

"Shane," I breathed, squeezing his hand in mine, slowly glancing up at his beautiful face, this moment forever imprinted upon my memories. "I wish I didn't have to go." I could see that through his joking smile, he felt the same way. I wondered briefly if he would miss me as much as I would miss him. Maybe he didn't need me as much as I needed him. However, since I was unable to read his brainwaves, I figured there was no point in worrying about it. I could tell by the way he was leaning into me, his arms wrapped protectively around me, that he didn't ever want to let me go. If only I could find the words to tell him I felt the same way.

We were a funny couple, as it goes. A world-wide famous Hollywood pop star, and a girl from a small town who's name probably wasn't on most maps. But, as it goes, the saying 'Opposites attract', was probably no joke. We were perfect with each other - just the way that we could stand there, in each other's arms, saying everything we needed to without saying a word aloud was in it self perfect.

"Smitchie......" The joking voice sang from behind us, causing us to break out of our embrace. I rolled my eyes at the petite girl standing in front of us, a smirk playing on her lips as she folded her arms together, her one eyebrow raised. I stuck my tongue out- a rather immature but common gesture for me- and once again wrapped my arms around Shane's waist before replying to her. Shane kept silent, glancing between us with a smile on his face. He did happen to love our random, immature conversations & ways of picking on each other.

"Bye to you too, Caity." I replied, rolling my eyes playfully in her direction, but her smirk only grew wider as she gently hit my arm, a chuckle escaping from her lips.

"Well, anyways, I just wanted to say bye again. I'll let you two get back to your love fest." She joked, and I frowned sadly at her as I pulled her into one last hug, squeezing her tightly. I'd miss her so much- she had become my only girl best friend- when others had ignored me & left me to wallow in my own depression, she'd been there to pick me up & dust me off. With a second glance behind her shoulder, she left Shane & me standing alone, once again. I glanced up sadly at Shane, a sigh escaping from my lips.

"I wish we could just stay here forever - I wish we never had to say goodbye to this amazing place." A mournful expression on my face, I glanced around at the cabins in the distance, along with the small stage in the back, at the place I'd come to call home. The place where I'd re-discovered myself. The place that I now had to say goodbye to. My attention returned to Shane as he stepped in front of me, grasping both my arms in his hands and staring at me, a loving expression in his eyes.

"There's always next summer, you know. It'll come faster than you think," He smiled at me, and I could see it was only half-hearted, because I knew that this winter would be the longest one for him too. "And although we won't get to see each other much, I'll still call, text, twitter, and email you as much as is possible. And if I get any time off, I'll be with you. I promise." Shane whispered, bending down to my level and once again pulling me into a tight, passionate hug.

"I love you." I replied simply, leaning into him and burying my head into his chest. Yes, some of you may be shocked by my openness, but truth be told this was normal for us. Most couples acted as if those three small words were something so amazing that they should only be said after dating months, even possibly years, but we knew that 'I love you' stood for something much more. It meant that you both loved and cherished each other, and acknowledged that fact by using those three simple words. They truly were not some bomb that once dropped, can either cause extreme passion, or pain, depending on the situation, but just a common place fact between us. We loved each other- yes, we may have only been dating for about a week (1 week, three hours, and fourty-two minutes, to be exact) but we both knew it in our hearts. We were one & the same, forever and ever. Call me crazy, but I knew that we (Smitchie, if you'd like to call us that) are, and always have been, meant to be.

"I love you too, and I'll miss you like crazy." He replied, his breath soft against my cheek. I melted into his embrace - just because we say those three words often, doesn't make them have any less of an impact.

The sound of a car's horn, only a few feet away from us, made both of us jump, and I turned, not surprised to see Tess climbing into a limo, a smirk on her face. I rolled my eyes at Shane, making a gagging noise.

"Wow. I don't even know what to say about her." I laughed, grinning up at Shane. Once, when I was insecure and broken, I had tried to make myself a part of something by attempting to make it into her group, and that had failed miserably, almost causing me to loose Shane, along with most of my other friends. Given the chance to do this summer over again, I might avoid her and her entire group. Actually.... I turned, glancing up at Shane's happy expression, and I knew in an instant I wouldn't have changed anything about this summer. Sure, I'd made many mistakes - some big, some little, but everything had fallen into place in the end, creating a perfect summer that I never could have imagined in my wildest dreams.

I loved Camp Rock. I love Camp Rock, I love it, I _love_ it. I owe it my life- it was the reason that I had finally found myself again. Of course, Shane deserved some credit too, since he had helped to break me out of my shell and had taught me to be, and stay, true to myself. No more did I feel the need to hide myself behind my wall of anger, depression, and sorrow. No more did I feel the need to keep myself from being happy, just because I'd thought that by being happy, I was betraying my parents. Now, I knew that wasn't true. Now, when that bubble of happiness exploded inside of me, instead of feeling guilty, I embraced it. All of this thanks to Camp Rock.

"I have to go." Shane's voice interuppted my thoughts, and quickly the smile slipped off my face, and I squeezed his hand tighter. I'd always known that this moment had to come, but I'd never really expected it, it seems, because I wasn't ready to leave. I wasn't ready to leave Camp Rock, Shane, or any of the other friends I'd made during my stay here. "I'm sorry, I wish I didn't have too..." He trailed off, and I bit my lip, attempting to hold back my tears. Although I knew we'd see each other again, (It wasn't like this was our last moment ever together, after all, we were kind of _dating_), it still hurt to say goodbye.

I've always hated them, goodbyes, I mean. They always were too... _final_ for my liking, as if 'goodbye' was the last thing you'd ever say to them (at least for the time being). And now it had come time for Shane and I to say our goodbyes. I ducked my head, staring down at our intertwined hands and forcing a smile. Why was I being so negative about this? It wasn't the end of the world- I would get to see Shane again sometime in the future. Still, it was as if I was just letting a newfound piece of me go.

"Come on Shane, sorry, dude, but we have to go. Aaron's calling us." Nate clapped Shane on the back, glancing at us sympathetically (he was leaving behind Caitlyn so I knew that he understood how we were feeling too). Shane watched as Nate stepped onto the tour bus, dissappearing somewhere into the back, before he returned his eyes on to me, sighing softly.

"My Mitchie." He whispered, his hand against my cheek. A lone tear strayed down my cheeks at his tender touch and soft expression, before he leaned down and kissed me. Slowly, we broke away, and with a mixed expression, he dropped my hand and stepped onto the bus. I smiled at him encouragingly, trying to keep my composure as the doors to the tour bus closed, seperating us. He was going back to his Hollywood lifestyle, filled with screaming fans, slutty actresses, and wild parties, while I would be returning to my boring, in-the-middle-of-nowhere town.

I could hear the bus' engine starting, but I could only see Shane's withdrawn expression, as he stared back at me, and I could see the longing in his face. I gave him a small smile, nodding at him. A sad, monotone feeling settled into my heart as the bus pulled out of the parking lot, taking away my boyfriend, the one who had caused me to stand up and become who I was now. I'd miss him dearly.

It was only once the bus had pulled away, and I could no longer see Shane, that I realized we had never officially said goodbye.


	2. I'm Not Crazy

**A/N:**_ New chapter! Haha ;D So as planned, the last chapter has been replaced (Be sure to go read it before reading this one) and I'm working on a new story title, along with summary as of now. I might just keep the story title the same, although I'm not really a fan of it, but I've had it for so long I might not change it, I'm not sure yet. If I do decide to change it, I'll let you all know what the title is in the next chapter. Also I'm going to be making up a new summary later on today for this story ;) _

_The italic text (with the execption of the song lyrics, which are once again supposed to be centered on the page) is all some of Mitchie's flashbacks- I did make her a little insane, be warned, but it had to be that way to fit the storyline. All shall be explained soon ;) And yes, when Mitchie says 'I'm not crazy' just imagine her on Grey's... haha. So yeah, anyways, enjoy & remember to go back adn read the first chapter before reading this one! ;)_

_Disclaimer: I don't, and won't, own Camp Rock (yes, it's sad but true)_

* * *

_**We** must hold onto our faith in each other_  
_We must let go of our pain, yeah I say_  
_We must hold onto our faith in each other_  
_Gotta still believe in each other_

* * *

**A**unt Clara watched me expectantly as I climbed into the passenger side of the car, as if wondering what mood I would be in. Not suprisingly, she looked slightly worried, as if I might either explode on her with my random acts of anger, or ignore her completely for sending me off to some summer camp. She never was quite sure what mood I would be in - as she put it, I'd often "woken up on the wrong side of the train tracks" (Yes, we're country people, got an issue with that?) before when I was still was... "broken", so to speak.

"So..." Aunt Clara seemed somewhat hesitant - uncomfortable, almost - to break the silence as we pulled out of Camp Rock's parking lot. I quickly turned around in my seat, staring back at the farmiliar buildings I'd come to know and love, a sigh escaping from my lips as it faded into the distance and I could no longer see it's massive form, hidden behind a row of trees. My shoulders dropping, I twisted in my seat and gave Aunt Clara a smile, knowing she was trying. She never had been sure of how to act around me, even from the beginning. "How was your summer?" Her tone was unsure, and I wished I could find the words to explain to her she didn't need to be afraid. She didn't need to worry about guarding her tongue around me- before, every little thing had set me off, sending me either deeper into depression, or stirring a wild pain in my heart that I just couldn't control...

* * *

_"Mitchie, sweetheart..." Aunt Clara's voice was a lame attempt at what most people call 'soothing', but I saw right through her pathetic tone. She was trying to make me feel better- she was always trying to make me better, to make my memories ease, to _change_ me. She'd made me suffer through multipule theripists and doctors tests- "Maybe something really is wrong with her"... "Maybe she's messed up mentally" - I was so sick of it all. Couldn't she see I was heartbroken? My mother was _dead_, my father was _gone_... was I the only one that had been spared? Why couldn't I have ended up with their fate- why must I continue to suffer through the pain of living all in vain? I was better off dead. And Aunt Clara, although I knew she meant well, was only making my life more miserable. Why couldn't she just understand that I needed to be alone? That I needed to feel pain, that I needed to beat myself up over this, that I was messed up beyond repair? Why did she insist with trying to fix me? "Won't you please just listen to me?" Her tone was almost begging, but I turned blindly away from her, refusing to look at her, refusing to let her see the tears in my eyes. _

_"Mitchie..." I stiffened, jerking away as I felt her hand touching my shoulder, but she managed to keep her hand in place. Why was she so touchy- why couldn't she just let me suffer alone? Why was she so persistant about 'helping' me. She wasn't helping me, she was breaking me - more and more each day. What she said about wanting the best for me - it was a lie, a terrible lie to make me believe she was sending me to these various doctors to actually help me. She wasn't - she didn't care about me, no one did. _

_"Stop it!" I screamed, jumping to my feet and backing away from her, my hands flinging around crazily. I felt my hand connect with something, and a moment later a large crash was heard as Aunt Clara's favourite antique vase shattered on the ground. Aunt Clara's look of horror spread as she flung her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock, and she stood frozen, as if afraid. Why should she be afraid- what was there to be afraid of? Oh, that's right- me. "Just stop it! Stop with these lies! Stop it, stop it, stop it please..." I was crying openly now- I couldn't take it, the pain was too great for me. I didn't know how to react to these insane, horrific emotions welled up inside of me. "Why do you even pretend to care about me? You don't- the only reason I'm with you now is because Mom asked you too. Otherwise I'd probably be living out on the street somewhere because I know you wouldn't have openly invited me into your house!" I screamed, releasing all my anger, fear, and pain out onto her. "You hate me- you hate me, you don't even pretend to care..." I sobbed, watching as tears streamed down Aunt Clara's face at my harsh, unfair words. _

_"Mitchie, I would never even think of-"_

_"No!" I screamed at her, reaching up to pull at the roots of my hair (the pain felt good, as if distracting me from my mental pain). "No, no, no! Don't you **lie**. That's all you've done, all along, is lie. One lie, after another, and another." Invoulentarily, my hand shot up, and came in contact with her cheek. Before I could surpress the horror in my eyes- I didn't know why I had just done that- I realized how good it felt. To finally allow Aunt Clara to feel some of the pain I'd had inside of me for months- it felt like payback. Revenge. And the next thing I knew, I had landed ontop of her, and she was screaming, screaming for Uncle Jordan to come and help her, and he was pulling me off, grasping my wrists while I screamed and writhered and cried, releasing the pain I'd felt inside. _

_"Jordan, will you please call Dr. Walters for me and let her know I need to bring Mitchie in immediately?" Aunt Clara's voice sounded strange and foriegn to my ears, but her words were mmuch too farmiliar. _

_"Please don't, please not again, please don't send me back there." I begged, dropping down onto my knees, staring up at her with tears blurring my vision and pouring down my cheeks. "Please, you know it won't help, you know I'm not crazy, I swear, I'm _not_ crazy." I pleaded, but nothing would change Aunt Clara's mind. Refusing to look at me, she found the phone while Jordan held my wrists firmly in his hands, refusing to let me get up and try to stop her. Of course he wouldn't let go - he knew I'd go after her again. _

_"Yes, Dr. Walters, I need to see you as soon as possible. Now, if you have time. It's rather urgent... yes, I'll be bringing Mitchie... well, Dr. Walters, it's a rather long story that I'd rather not explain over the telephone.... yes, I see... I'll be right over." Her fingers clicked the end button, and she was already pulling on her winter coat, while Uncle Jordan still held onto me. "Jordan, I'll need you to take us over to Dr. Walter's office, please, since I won't go with Mitchie alone." Her eyes glanced briefly in my direction, and once again I attempted to step forwards (Uncle Jordan's strong grip refused to let me, however)._

_Uncle Jordan was careful to hang onto me until we were 'safely' into his beaten up pickup truck, and even still he kept a close eye on me. If only he could understand... if only he could see what I was going through. _

_"Please," I sobbed, my breath coming in great gasps at the waves of pain flooding over me, "Please, I'm not crazy.** I'm not crazy**." _

* * *

"Mitchie?" Aunt Clara's voice broke through my thoughts, and I shuddered as the memory left me. Before, when I was insane and lost and broken... I was so happy to be able to breathe again, to feel truly alive again, to be _normal_ again. I wasn't crazy- not at the moment, anyways.

"Sorry Aunt Clara," I smiled apologetically in her direction. "My summer was wonderful! Camp Rock was amazing and the people there were totally awesome. It was the experience of a lifetime." I gushed, all in one breath, and the shocked expression that came over Aunt Clara's face was priceless. I think she still was unsure of if I was actually being honest. "This summer changed me." I admitted, my tone lighter, "I feel alive again- I know that I can be happy, I know that it's _alright_ to be happy. I'm finally myself again." I whispered, tears filling my eyes, and I quickly wiped them away, a smile still lighting up my face. A wild look of joy filled Aunt Clara's expression, and immediately she swerved off the road, stopped the car, and reached over to give me a huge hug. I returned the gesture, holding onto her as tears fell from my eyes- not tears of sorrow, as it had been before, but tears of joy. Joy, that I'd found myself. Joy, that Aunt Clara could forgive me. Joy, that things were finally right again.

"Oh, honey..." Aunt Clara breathed into my shoulder, and I could feel her shaking, and I finally realized she was crying too.

"Thank you, for helping me find myself again. Thank you for forcing me to come here, thank you for being there for me, even when I was crazy. I'm sorry about everything I've done to you- if you never forgive me, I wouldn't blame you. But please know that I love you and I appreciate everything you've done for me, and I hope we can fix this before it's too late."

"Oh sweetheart, I love you. Of course I forgive you- darling, I'd already forgiven you. There's no need to apologize because I understand what it feels like, to loose people very close to you that you care about. I'm just glad you found yourself again, and I'm proud that you were able to do it by yourself. I'm sorry we sent you to so many therapists- I wish we could've communicated better back then, but I never should have put that upon you. I never should have even thought it from the very beginning- I should've been more sympathetic to what you were going through. I'm sorry, I love you." We both were crying now, but the good kind of crying, where you're admitting everything and mending your relationships, and making everything better. It's the happy crying because once it's done, you feel so much better- as if there's a weight lifted off of your shoulders. As if you can finally stand up tall and breathe again- as if you can finally rest peacefully again. As if everything's better again.

As if our worlds were now at peace.

* * *

_"Mitchie, I need you to answer me, please." Dr. Walters pushed, as I tried to avoid her prying eyes. She didn't want to help me either- she didn't truly care, she just wanted to find out what was wrong with me so she could get more money out of Aunt Clara. She was just using me to make Aunt Clara come out three times a week, for my 'therapy', as she called it. 'Her job was to help the "mentally distressed"'. Too bad I wasn't one of her mentally-disturbed patient, and I had no part in playing the role of one. Without looking her way, I shook my head at her. No, I wouldn't tell her what she didn't need to know. Was it any of her buisness, anyways? She was always sticking her nose where it didn't belong, trying to pry for information she didn't deserve to know. _

_"Mitchie will you please talk to Dr. Walters?" Aunt Clara was seated a good distance away- it didn't matter anyways, there was a wall of glass seperating me from her and Dr. Walters, as if I was some kind of dangerous prisioner who'd been locked up in jail and, although allowed to have visitors, had to have a sheet of glass to protect everyone else from myself. I wasn't like that- I never would hurt someone on purpose, and I hadn't meant to hurt Aunt Clara. I flinched- now that I had stoppped crying, I could see clearly, and I couldn't help but notice the large scratch marks on the side of Aunt Clara's face. What had I done to her? I ducked my head in shame. _I_ had been the one who had hurt her. I still couldn't believe what I had done._

_"Mitchie." Dr. Walter's voice was slightly less comforting, and I glanced up, catching that she was annoyed and impatient, and she wanted her answers. "Why did you attack Aunt Clara?" She repeated, her voice firm, and I raised my eyes to meet hers, glaring at her as she stared back, as if challenging me speak, challenging me to remain silent at the same time. Ugh- this was why I refused to look at her often, she liked to play those mind games and mess up your mind until you just gave way and answered her. _

_"I'm not crazy." I glared at her defiantly, my voice confident. Dr. Walters raised her eyebrows. _

_"I never said you were, Mitchie, however, it's no secret that there is some question in the matter." She replied, her tone monotone, and I flinched again, her words stabbing deep into my heart. "Now, I need you to answer my question. Why did you attack-" I cut her off, shaking my head. _

_"I'm **not** crazy." I shouted, standing up and slamming my hands down on the table. I'm not crazy- I didn't need to be here. "I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy!" I yelled at both of them, before turning around only to have the door slammed shut in front of me, forcing me to remain in this horrible confined space, with Dr. Walters and Aunt Clara still sitting there, one looking upset and the other stone-like, emotionless. "Please," I whispered, tears in my eyes as my breath came in gasps - I couldn't help it, I'd always hated being confined in small spaces. I believe Dr. Walters would say I was clausterphobic. "Please, I swear, I'm not crazy." _


	3. Everybody Hurts

_A/N: Hey guys :) So I'm back with another new chapter. This one is kind of uneventful, but the story will be picking up very soon- the next chapter, actually. Also, just to let you all know, my computer crashed. It just popped & bam, won't turn back on. Hence, I had to write most of this chapter on my dad's laptop, and I'm not used to his keyboard, so I apologize in advance for any misspellings/grammer issues, this keyboard completely throws me off (haha). Anyways, enjoy this chapter & if you'd like, please leave a review when you're done. :D _

_P.S Yes, I meant for the song lyrics to be at both the beginning & end of this chapter :)_

_Disclaimer: Duh. I don't own Camp Rock or I wouldn't be here on FF... I'd be making Camp Rock 3 :D_

_

* * *

_

_Give me your hand_  
_Come walk with me girl_  
_Nothing's that far when your near_  
_So come even closer to me_  
_Something so easy to do, and I fall into the ocean_  
_Inside of your arms_  
_Taking me deeper where all the pain goes..._

* * *

[Shane's POV]

**I** stared as Mitchie grew smaller and smaller, the bus taking us father and father apart. It felt like I was letting go of a part of me, as if I was loosing the one thing in my life that I actually, truly cared about. I couldn't believe that the record company had insisted on a fall tour, and I couldn't believe that Nate had signed us up for it in the first place. Fools, pitiful fools. Also, just so we're clear, I'm not 'reverting back to my old ways', I'm just releasing a little of my frustration. It's perfectly normal and we all do it at some point in life- don't go getting all worked up over nothing.

"Come on, Shane, you'll see her again soon." Nate clapped his hand on my shoulder, and I took the time to turn around and smile at him, which is something that at one point, I never would've done. Not even in my dreams, and I'd had some pretty insane dreams. I'll just avoid that subject for now, though, since I don't really want to get into the full extent of insanity that my dreams held. It seemed safe to say that was an unsafe subject... ha, detect my ironic sarcasm? Ok, since I'm probably scaring you, I'll stop now. This is just what happens when I eat too much sugar, which we happen to store a lot of on the tour bus.

"Yeah I know, but right now it just feels so... final." I sighed, taking a deep breath of air as I leaned back in m chair, propping my legs up on the couch next to me. Nate glanced at my feet but said nothing, although I'm almost positive I saw his lips tighten slightly. Typical Nate, he should know that just because Mitchie had 'changed' me didn't mean that she had done a full 180 turn, she wasn't a miracle worker... or was she?

She certainly had managed to weasel her way into my heart (or was it the other way around - she hadn't been all too fond of me in the beginning even though I had fallen head over heels for her) Mitchie... I missed her already. Just knowing I couldn't be there to hug her, to comfort her when she needed, to love her, it hurt. I wanted to jump off the bus, run back to here, spin her around, and announce I wasn't going to do the fall world tour, but rent a house near her so we could be with each other all the time. As much as I wanted too, I knew I couldn't. Nate would probably kill me, and Mitchie might think I was being a bit clingy. Plus the label might not like that...

"Shane, is your head in la la land again?" Jason asked, his hair falling into his eyes as he tilted his head. Gosh, I don't know why he insisted on straightening it when it looked perfectly fine curly. "Or is it called day dreaming... I always can get mixed up." Jason sighed, as if this 'intense thinking' was giving him a headache, and he sat down promptly. I love Jason (in a brotherly way) but sometimes, he can be a little air-headed (ok, a lot). Poor Jason, he really couldn't help it. Oh well- he had always been the happy one of Connect 3 as a result. Lucky Jason.

"Yes, actually, I'm thinking about Mitchie." I replied softly - at one time, I would've snapped back and watch Jason cower, but now I realized how mean that would really be, and I actually felt bad about all the times I'd done it before. It was wrong to treat Jason as if he was just an annoying child, even if sometimes he did act like it. At least now, I recognized that- and it was all thanks to Mitchie. My amazing, beautiful Mitchie. Mitchie... I couldn't get her face out of my head, or our last moments together.

It was then I realized we'd never officially said our goodbyes.

* * *

_[Mitchie's POV]_

I couldn't stop myself from rambling on about the wonderful time I'd had at Camp Rock, but it seemed that Aunt Clara was happy to listen. When I finally told her about Shane, I saw the knowing smirk on her face and I couldn't stop myself from blushing.

"So, this Shane..." She trailed off, leaving me to finish the rest. I turned a deeper shade of red. It wasn't that dating Shane was embarrassing to say (not at all, it was a rather proud thing that I was able to say that), it was just that telling my _aunt_ was a little weird. I glanced away from her, playing around with my fingernails, and Aunt Clara laughed at my embarrasment. Well, at least someone gets amused from my flushed cheeks and fiddling hands.

"We're dating." I admitted, and Aunt Clara's face lit up with a pure joy I'd never seen on her face before. "He's amazing, and perfect." I sighed, Shane's face filling my head as a smile tugged at the corner of my lips. Shane... I wondered how long it would be before I saw his face again, how long I'd have to go without having him holding me in his arms, when the whole world melted away and it was just him and I. Just Shane and I, minus the rest of the world.

"Aww, honey, I'm proud of you." She smiled, pulling me into a one-handed hug, and suddenly I felt slightly uncomfortable. This seemed like a mother-daughter kind of conversation (especially with her response), and I wasn't sure how much I liked the idea of having one with Aunt Clara. She was only my aunt, after all. I resisted from pulling away, though, for her sake. Just so that she didn't think I was reverting back to my old ways- I never wanted to go back to those dark days. Never, ever, _ever_ again would I revisit those days where I hated life, where I doubted every path I took, where I attacked my aunt at random moments for no apparent reason, where I was forced to see Dr. Walters every day because of my 'issues'. Those days were done and gone, never to return... I'd make sure of it.

* * *

_"Mitchie." Sierra didn't try to hide the disdain in her voice from coming through. Her voice was cold and cutting, and I couldn't help but flinch. At the one time in my life I'd needed my best friend most, she'd left, turned against me, and had joined the enemy. I almost found it hard to believe, except for the fact that even life itself was against me right now. I stopped at the sound of her voice, spinning around on my heels and facing her, a cold glare in my eyes. She hadn't tried to even be polite, so neither was I. I never was one who would smile and 'fake it with the best of them', so to speak, when I was angry or disliked someone. I wasn't going to be a hypocrite. _

_"Sierra." I gave her a one-worded, snappy answer, not attempting to even make peace. It wasn't worth it - the one time I needed her, she fled and left me to choke on all the dust she'd stirred up. It wasn't fair- it wasn't right, and I was going to make sure that she knew it. It wasn't right that she turned against me and treated me like dirt, all because I 'wasn't myself'. Of course I wasn't going to be myself- I'd just lost both my parents and was living with an aunt who thought I needed therapy... yeah, I think that pretty much qualifies me to change a little. I wasn't going to be my happy, perky self - it just wasn't going to happen. _

_Sierra rolled her eyes at me, snapping me out of my previous thoughts and back into the 'real' world. Oh, how I hated being both lost in my thoughts and being totally aware of everything happening, or that had happened, around me. Either way, in both worlds the pain I felt made my heart ache, made my body tremble, made me want to scream and cry and find some way to release it. Unfortunately, that way was usually by exploding on innocent people. Fortunately, though, Sierra was no innocent person. Far from it, in fact, considering she's turned up her nose at me ever since my life went down the drain. Some friend, ha. _

_"Anyways," She dragged out the word, her tone suggesting she was already bored with our little run-in, "You're in front of my locker, get your butt moving." She growled, and I froze, anger mixing with disbelief that she would even be so rude- we were friends once. That had to count for something... right? She couldn't be serious- I was still waiting for the laughter to come, and her stick out her tongue at me while saying she'd 'got me this time'. But this time, it never happened. Her glare was cold and harsh, and her expression held no laughter, not even the slightest trace of happiness. I couldn't believe this was really happening- I pinched myself, maybe it was all just a bad dream, but no, I flinched in response, straightening to face her. Now that I'd gotten over my inital shock, I was _angry._ Very, very angry. And anyone who knew me, knew that was I was angry... "She was insane, crazed, I tell you- they really should lock her up" had been the last response I'd overheard when I'd lost my temper._

_"Are you serious?" I hissed, drawing the attention of many surrounding students (I really didn't care what they thought of me though) as I stepped forwards, meeting Sierra's cold glare with one of my own. I wasn't about to back down to someone who didn't deserve my respect (aka the fact that she could have her own opinion when she really knew nothing about what was going on in my life). "Please, Sierra, I know you're not..." my hands were shaking - not from anger, or anything like that, but because I was afraid. Afraid that when I did blow up on her, it would permanently damage any hope of ever recollecting our friendship forever, afraid that Aunt Clara would send me back to Dr. Walters for more therapy once she found out, and most importantly afraid of what I was going to do next. I didn't want to hurt Sierra..._

_"Of course." Sierra's voice had gotten harder, or maybe I was just sensing her anomosity towards me, which wasn't hard to find, actually. The air felt thick around us, as if it knew we both we in some kiknd of danger right now. It was mostly her, I believe. "What, did you think just because we were 'friends' before that I would just 'forgive & forget'?" I knew her words meant more than just the fact that I was standing near her locker, this ran much deeper. Her words were hinting at the root of our problems... I turned away from her, a pain stabbing at my heart as I thought about how far we'd come- never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that she would turn on me like this. Before, it just hadn't been an option- we'd been so close we'd called each other sisters. Of course, we haven't done that in quite a while. Not since she stabbed me in the back and joined the enemy's side. _

_"Just back off Sierra, you don't know anything." I snapped, perhaps harsher than I needed too. "Just go away." I hissed, knowing that the pain from her betrayal would never fully go away. It would always be there, always be a part of me, always be the missing piece I could never find. Forever broken, forever lost..._

* * *

[Mitchie's POV]

"Mitchie..." Aunt Clara's voice snapped me out of my previous daze, and I immediately returned my attention to her, thankful for stopping my memories in their tracks- I didn't want to think about what had happened next on that day, I didn't want to remember any of the rest of that day's events. Thankfully.

"Yeah?" I replied, still having to force the memories back, because they wanted nothing more than to be remembered. Flinching slightly, I forced a smile, but when I caught sight of Aunt Clara's expression, it quickly faded. "What's wrong?"

"Well, nothing really," Aunt Clara promised, quickly hiding the uncertain, somewhat-nervous look in her eyes, and smiling back at me. "Actually, it's rather good news." She continued, and I tilted my head as I waited for her to finish. "Well..." She smiled again,as if hesistant to finish her sentence. Maybe now she realized she didn't want to say anything at all. "Actually..."

"Yes?" I pushed, wondering what in the world could make Aunt Clara reconsider even telling me. Aunt Clara glanced at me, a look of both fear and hope, and finished her eventful statement.

"They found your father."

* * *

_Give me your hand_  
_Come walk with me girl_  
_Nothing's that far when your near_  
_So come even closer to me_  
_Something so easy to do, __and I fall into the ocean_  
_Inside of your arms_  
_Taking me deeper where all the pain goes away_


	4. Hear My Whispers

**A/N: **_Hey guys :) I'm back already with a new chapter for you guys! As a favor in return, I'd like to take the time to as if a few of you guys could take just two seconds and press that little 'review' button down at the bottom and leave me a comment. It can only be a few words/sentences if you want, believe me, I'll appreciate each and every one. Please. And... yup, that's all I wanna say :)_

_(The italic writing is a dream, for this chapter :) P.S Again, forgive any grammar/spelling issues, I'm still on the laptop :P_

_Disclaimer: Although I do not own Camp Rock, I do happen to own the moon... wait, no. Oh well, I own nothing :(_

* * *

_No, you'll never be alone_  
_When darkness comes I'll light the night with stars_  
_Hear my whispers in the dark_  
_No, you'll never be alone_  
_When darkness comes you know I'm never far_  
_Hear my whispers in the dark_

* * *

**[Mitchie's POV]**

**I **sat, stunned. Maybe I had misheard Aunt Clara- maybe my brain was tricking me into believing I'd heard her say that she'd found my _father_ because I wanted to believe it. Maybe... but no, Aunt Clara was still watching me carefully, her face both joyful yet nervous. Maybe she wasn't sure of how I was going to respond- maybe she thought I was going to blow up on her for not telling me soon, or maybe she thought I'd cry. So many maybes, and so little explanations. I'd never given up hope that he was alive- no doubt, I'd had quite a few doubts that he was, but now... it just seemed so unreal. Everything felt as if I was in a dream, as if this moment would never be truly real to me. As if this entire moment was a lie, a wicked, cold-hearted lie. However, I could see by Aunt Clara's expression that this was no joke, lie, or dream. This was all real- this was actually happening.

"When?" I managed to choke out, my hand on my chest as I tried to control my breathing, feeling an mixture of excitement and anticipation welling up inside. "When did you find out?" I saw Aunt Clara's grip on the steering wheel tighten slightly, and I heard the slight intake of her breath, and I immediately straightened.

"Actually, I got a call right before you left." She admitted, and my mouth dropped open in surprise. She'd known, before I even left for Camp Rock, and yet she hadn't even told me? What in the world was wrong with her? Why had she felt the need to keep this news from me when she'd known how deeply it would affect me? "I just didn't want you to refuse to go to Camp Rock- I knew that was what you needed to do, and if I'd told you back then, you never would've gone, and you wouldn't be who you are right now."

My natural response was anger. How dare she keep this from me- how dare she think she had the right to keep this from me? He was my father- I deserved to know if he was still _alive _or not. I deserved to at least know that he wasn't dead... didn't I?

"How could you keep this from me? All summer long... you _knew_, and you never told me!" I exclaimed, allowing my anger to get the best of me as I slammed my fist down on the car's seat. "Are you kidding me? How could you do this to me?" I yelled, finding it quite hard to breathe all the sudden. This whole summer, Aunt Clara had known that my father wasn't dead, and yet- although she'd had several opportunities to tell me, she never had mentioned it. Why in the world hadn't she?

"Honey, please calm down," Aunt Clara's voice was slightly nervous, and I knew why. I'd exploded on her many times before, and all of those times had ended badly. She didn't want it to happen again. I didn't want to go back to Dr. Walters again, so hence I kept myself from jumping on her. Plus, she was driving... the last thing I need right now is to cause a car accident. "I only did what I thought was best for you- I didn't mean to hurt you by not telling you, but I honestly thought that it would be better if you didn't know until you got back from Camp Rock. What could you do, anyways, when you were away at Camp Rock? It wouldn't have mattered either way."

"Of course it would've!" I yelled, fighting back my tears. "It would've made all the difference in the world to me- to know that he was alive and well and not lying dead somewhere!" I screamed, finally managing to loose my temper. Despite what Aunt Clara thought, she wasn't thinking in my best interest. She never had been... no, I couldn't let myself think like this, I couldn't let myself self-destruct again. I had to stop this cycle, I had to prove that I really wasn't crazy.

"Oh Mitchie..." Aunt Clara sighed, reaching out to touch my arm, but before she could my cell phone vibrated, making both of us jump.

**:( Miss you already**

I smiled briefly, chucking at Shane's text. Shane... oh how I wished he was here to hold me right now - to tell me everything would be ok, to tell me to calm down and collect myself. If only he was here, I was convinced everything would be better. Things wouldn't be going as horribly as they were right now. However, Shane wasn't here, and things were going badly. I quickly threw down my phone, not bothering to even press the 'dismiss' button on the text, and returned my attention to Aunt Clara.

"How did you find out?" I asked, attempting to lower my voice from a yell. Aunt Clara glanced at me briefly, her lips tight, and I groaned. Why couldn't she make this easier? I was trying to discuss this like reasonable adults, and she was only making things more difficult.

"I got a phone call from the asylum," Aunt Clara began, and I flinched. I could only imagine where this was going. "They wanted to know if there was anyone there named Mitchie Torres." I stiffened, my eyes now focusing on her and giving her my full, undivided attention. "They said they had a patient who kept repeating that name, over and over again, and that was all he'd say." Tears were now welled up in my eyes at her words, which touched my heart in a way I never could've imagined. "They weren't sure of his name, and then he gave out a phone number, and they immediately called here..." She smiled, in an awkward way, but I hardly noticed. All I could think about was my father. My father, whom I hadn't seen in at least two and a half years, and who had thought of me the entire time.

"But wait- how did he end up... in the crazy house?" I asked, finally finding the words to speak again, after a few minutes of a comfortable silence. Aunt Clara shrugged.

"I'm not sure, actually, but I think it might..." My eyes grew wide as I broke off listening to her, my heart beating faster as I panicked.

"Aunt Clara, look out!" I yelled, reaching over to grab the car's steering wheel, the car swerving just as we narrowing avoided what would have been a head-on collision with one of those massive, huge trucks. There wasn't much time to be grateful of this fact, though. It seemed our little car didn't seem to want to stay on the road for all of our fervent wishing, and I let out a shriek as Aunt Clara tugged at the steering wheel, attempting to steer the car back towards the road, but failed. As the road curved, our car continued straight, jumping off the bend and slamming straight on into a tree. Within seconds, everything had gone black.

* * *

**[Shane's POV]**

**I** rolled my eyes at Nate, letting him know how ridiculous he was being, before I shoved the contents out of his hands, still rolling my eyes except now, I was also sticking out my tongue at Nate's disbelieving expression.

"Nate, seriously, I'm not eating that healthy junk. I asked you if we had any Hershey's, and you come back with a bowl of _fruit_? What in the world are you thinking?" I replied, crossing my arms at him while waiting for him to respond. With an annoyed look, he bent down to pick up the pieces of fruit that had fallen to the floor.

"I thought we already went over this. I told you, we changed the menu while you were at Camp Rock. The label and our producers agreed that it would be better if we kept healthy snacks on the tour bus- aka, fruits and such- instead of all the sugar, like junk food and excetra." He answered, nodding his head as he slowly repeated the words to me, and I scowled.

"I'm a part of Connect 3- why did you guys make this decison without me?" I asked, still annoyed at the fact they hadn't even asked me. Nate, sucking in a deep breath, began once again in his attempt to explain to me, like a reasonable human being, why we only had that fruit crap on the bus.

"Well, Shane, since you were at Camp Rock at the time that we decided this, it only seemed logical to go ahead and do it without calling you to ask, since it's better for everyone this way. Sugary snacks and such are very high in fat and very unhealthy for you." He replied calmly, his tone indicating that since I hadn't exploded yet, Nate was trying his best to stay under control as well. I saw right through it, however, and this caused me to smirk.

"Whatever, just forget it then." I replied, somewhat in a joking manner, and I pushed Nate's hand, along with the bowl which held some pieces of fruit, most ruined by my dropping them on the floor, away from me, still grinning. Nate rolled his eyes at my childish behavior but returned to the kitchen, probably just glad I hadn't tossed the bowl again.

Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I unlocked it, checking to see if I had any missed calls/texts. Nothing. I sighed, knowing I was being overly crazy, but I hadn't gotten a text from Mitchie since we'd left Camp Rock three hours ago. She'd said that she would call once she got home, and from what she'd told me, her town was just a little over three hours away. I bit my lip, not hard enough to draw blood but just hard enough to draw my attention away from the fact Mitchie hadn't text me, not even to say hi, or the like. Maybe I was just being an overprotective, obsessive boyfriend, but I was worried.

Sliding my phone sideways to reveal my keypad, I quickly sent her a text, with a simple '**:( Miss you already**'. Somewhat satisfied, I still clutched at the phone, hoping she would reply soon. I slid my fingers over my phone as I waited for a return text from her, my leg shaking imapatiently.

"Shane!" Nate's stern voice made me jump in surprise, causing the phone to slip out of my fingers. Thankfully, it only fell onto my lap, and I managed to catch it before any futher damange was caused. With a scoff, I glared at Nate, as if to say, 'see what you almost did?' Nate just rolled his eyes in response. "Please, put your phone down. You're gonna sufficate Mitchie, with your constent texting and- I'm sure you will later- calling. Just let her relax, Shane, she's fine." Nate demanded, reaching out for my phone. Immediately, I grabbed hold of my cell phone with a death grip and held it closer to me, shaking my head.

"I'm not letting you have my phone- no way, man." I continued, dead determind to keep my phone, whatever the cost. "I need it!" I whined, not really caring if I sounded like a whiny, bratty pop star again (that's what I was afterall, right?) Nate rolled his eyes at my dramatic scene, but that only made me continue on. "No way, no."

"Shane!" Nate raised his voice, something he barely did, and I stopped. It was a rare moment indeed that Nate raised his voice at anyone. "Keep your phone then, but I highly suggest you let Mitchie rest in peace, and go and take a nap. We do have a concert tomorrow, after all, and I'm certainly not going to let you ruin the show just because you were wondering if Mitchie is as crazy about you as you are about her. Go!" He commanded, and with one last scowl in his direction, I made my way to the back of the bus, pulling myself up into one of the three bunk beds, placing my phone next to me and watching it, hoping maybe it would light up or vibrate to show I'd recieved a message.

My phone, however, remained quite silent.

* * *

**I** rolled over impatiently, closing my eyes as an image of Mitchie's beautiful face, as one lone tear slid down her cheek, and I wondered why I had suddenly felt so downtrodden and hopeless. With a shake of my head, I dismissed the sad look on Mitchie's face. Instantly, the scene changed, placing us in the middle of an empty, enchanted looking forest. Oh, how beautiful she looked...

_She was laughing, her head thrown back as the wind blew her hair around her, surrounding her in locks of dark silk. She looked so light and free, and full of life, that at first I almost didn't recognize her. Happy and carefree, she swirled around, barefoot and clothed in a beautiful white dress, her skin radiant and soft. She didn't seem to notice me as she continued to twirl, reaching up towards the sky as a few stray leaves fell around her, and a smile of bliss lit up her face as a pure, innocent laugh flowed around her. I stepped forwards, captivated by her simple beauty, and the leaves under my feet made a 'crunch' noise, and the young girl stopped, spinning around to catch sight of me. Her eyes met mine, and a small smile grew on her face, and she stepped forwards, her feet seeming to float across the ground, and the plants underneath her feet lit up, a fresh, healthy green color marking her tracks. My eyebrows scrunched together, unsure of what was happening, although as Mitchie drew closer, I didn't care why. I wanted to grab her in my arms and spin her around, clutching onto her tightly. I restrained myself- something was different about her- there seemed to be a sense of urgency surrounding her being, and a strange glow lit her up as she smiled again, reaching out to touch my cheek. Involunentarily, I stepped forwards into her waiting arms._

_"Shane." Her voice was sweet, and she spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She traced my lips with her delicate fingers, and I felt myself go faint at her soft touch. Her hands reaching out, she pulled me closer, enclosing her arms around me, and I returned the hug with a tight grip. "My dear, sweet Shane." She whispered lightly, her breath tickling my ear, and I closed my eyes, breathing in her sweet scent._

_"Mitchie." I, too, spoke quietly, and her eyes fluttered open as she pulled away, to rest on mine, a smile on her red lips. Her smile, however, didn't seem completely happy, as if something unsaid was bothering her. I frowned as she stepped back forwards, resting her hand on my arms._

_"Shane." Even though her tone was still sugary sweet and velvety, I sensed there was some lurking danger in her words. "My precious Shane, you are the only one who can save me now." Her smile faltered, and I glanced at her worriedly. Her words didn't make sense- she was perfect and beautiful in every way, and it was clear that, from the outside, there was nothing she needed saving from._

_She stagged slightly, and I reached out to steady her, our hands intertwined tightly as I watched her carefully, examining all the beautiful features etched on her face, but this time there was no returning smile._

_"What's wrong?" I cried, as she quickly reached out to grab hold of me, her legs buckling underneath her. Panic gripping at my heart, I lowered her down, dropping to the ground beside her as I took her hand, squeezing it tightly. "Mitchie, what's wrong?"_

_Her look of angish didn't disappear as she tilted her head towards me, painfully slow, her face now much paler than before, and I had to force myself to not freak out on her, only for her sake. What in the world was going on? A croak came from her throat, and it took me a second to realize that she meant to laugh._

_"My dear Shane, only you can save me now."_

_**Hear my whispers in the dark...**_


	5. Kicking & Screaming

**A/N:**_New chapter again :) Anyways, this one is much shorter than the previous ones, but this is just kind of a filler chapter & I just wanted to give you guys something new :) Hopefully it's not too bad, Shane is a little OOC from his character in 'Shattered Glass' in this chapter (or at least I think he is), sorry about that, I just wanted to play around with a different side of him. Anyways, I changed the summary, and I might be changing the title soon, but if I do, I'll warn you guys ahead of time just so there's no confusions :) Anyways... on with the story! &&please review :)_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Camp Rock, for like, the 143243208089th time. :)_

* * *

**I **woke with a start, sweat dripping down my face as I shoved the covers off of me and bolted upright, breathing heavily as I attempted to calm down. _All a dream,_ I tried to tell myself, _it was just a dream. It's not real. Mitchie's fine..._curling my hands into a ball, I stumbled out of the bunk bed, wiping my arm across my forehead. It hadn't been real- yet it had felt so real. Now, I had to know that Mitchie was ok, and that it really had just been a nightmare and didn't actually mean anything. Almost faster than I had imagined possible, my hand shot out, reaching desperately for my phone, which lay undisturbed on the bunk bed I had just jumped out of. Quickly, I pressed the side button and waited for it to light up.

_Nothing._

The panic returned slightly. If there was one thing I knew, it was that Mitchie always text back, almost immediately most times, but at least sometime soon, and yet there was nothing. No missed alerts, no answering text, just nothing. A blank screen, which made me sick to my stomach, stared back at me, almost taunting me.

No, she had to be fine. Just because she hadn't texted me back by now didn't mean something was wrong- maybe she just needed to charge her phone, or something... I hoped fervently that it was just something as simple as that, although I feared that something was wrong. Maybe that dream had been a sign that Mitchie needed me...

_"You're the only one who can save me now..."_

I jumped, before I realized her voice was only in my head. Wow, just one pointless dream, and I was going insane already. Look how easy it was to break me and manipulate me. I couldn't understand why this dream felt so different, so threatening, so real...

"Birds are better!" I flinched, spinning around to meet Nate and Jason's astonished faces, and I immediately froze. Nate already thought I was acting crazy, and I knew that I didn't need to re-arouse his suspicion a second time. Except, Nate and Jason had already figured out that something wasn't right with me.

"What's wrong Shane?" Jason asked innocently, looking worried, yet still slightly air-head-ish, at least to me. I shook my head again, trying to get Mitchie's helpless expression out of my head.

"I had a dream..." I replied, still somewhat shakily, and Nate scowled at me, as if to say, 'That's it?'

"Shane, if you're about to go off on another 'I have a dream' speech on me, I swear-" I cut him off before he could continue, scowling at him.

"This is serious, Nate, I'm worried. I think some-thing's wrong with Mitchie." I replied, my tone dead serious, and Nate sighed beside me. Jason, however, let out a shriek, his expression horrified.

"What's wrong with Mitchie? She's not hurt is she? Oh, how I hate it when people get hurt..." He rambled, his hands flying to cover his mouth, and when I opened my mouth to respond, he flinched as though I'd hit him. "Oh, I can't handle it, Mitchie is such a sweet girl too..."

"Jason!" Both Nate and I shouted at the same time, and Jason froze, as if he'd turned to stone. He looked nervous, anxious, and scared, all at the same time. I realized how unfair I was being to the both of them, and sighed.

"Sorry," I apologized, running my hand through my hair. "I just had this horrible dream, and I can't shake the feeling that something's not right." I admitted, Mitchie's tears still fresh in my mind. All I could see was her desperate expression, and I could only hear her whispered words, repeating over again. I only wished that the images would leave my head just long enough that I could calm down, call Mitchie, hear her voice laugh when she told me everything was ok and I was being silly, and roll her eyes at me. And then, everything would be ok. Everything would be fine. I could breathe again. "Please, I just need to call her." I excused myself, stepping away from the two and hitting Mitchie's speed dial number. Once she picked up, and I knew she was okay, I'd stop worrying so much.

I know I sounded crazy and obsessive and... well, crazy, but I loved Mitchie so much, and I couldn't seem to get rid of this dark emotion that just _knew _Mitchie wasn't ok. Some sixth sense inside was warning me, and I just had to talk to Mitchie, and then everything would be alright.

The phone rang, and rang, and no one answered. The panic in my heart continued to rise until finally, there was a click, and Mitchie's voice came through the other end of the line. I sighed in relief. _She was okay_.

"Hi, you've reached Mitchie." Her voice was happy, and bubbly, and just what I needed to hear. With a sigh of relief, I opened my mouth to speak. Before I could, she continued, and her next words made me frown.

"I'm sorry I missed your call, but if you leave a message I will call you back as soon as I can!" I stopped, feeling my heart skip a beat. She hadn't answered- I'd only reached her voice mail. She hadn't text me back, and she hadn't answered my call... maybe she was angry at me? No, she wouldn't do that, or at least she would've answered to let me know and explain why. No, something was wrong.

_Calm down, Shane, I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation for all of this and why Mitchie's not answering, don't be so insane._

"Hey Mitchie, it's Shane... please call me back, I need to talk to you..." I trailed off, deciding to just leave it at that, and snapped my phone shut, wondering if something bad really had happened. This was not good. With no way to contact Mitchie, and Nate and Jason insisting that everything was fine, and my own jumbled, rushed thoughts, this was going to be a long day.

If only I could shake the feeling that everything was going wrong.

* * *

**F**lashes of light. Lots of high pitched noises. A sharp pain in my lower back. The far-away sounds of people crying and screaming, and sirens. Brief intervals when people stood over me, poking and prodding me, when all I wanted was to be left alone. I was so tired, and my body was screaming in pain, and I didn't know why.

"Hospital..." I heard brief words, although I missed the actual sentences, just snatching up bits and such of the conversations of random strangers surrounding me. "Bleeding..." I groaned in pain, wondering what was going on. Nothing seemed to be making sense- my world was jumbled and confused and in chaos.

"Driver... survive..." My head lolled to the side, yet I could not have stopped it if I wanted to. I had no control over my body- what was going on? I couldn't feel my arms or my legs, and I dimly managed to hear something about someone needing 'surgery'. I was too tired to try to figure out what they were babbling about, though, because now a sharp pain was shooting through my stomach. I screamed, writhering on the ground, now managing to gain full control over my limbs. I felt arms pushing me down, yelling to stop moving, yelling that I was causing more damage, yelling that if I didn't stop...

They tried to hold me down, not knowing the fact that I was clausterphobic. A panic gripped at my heart at the fact that I both couldn't see, and had at least a few people restraining me and several shoutoting at me. "Stop moving!"

Tears were streaming down my face. I was confused. I was afraid. I was panicking. I was hopeless. I knew that something bad had happened, and I knew that it had to do with us... _us... Aunt Clara and I._ Where was Aunt Clara? What had happened- was she alright? She had to be okay...

"Drug... move...soon..." None of the words were connecting in my head, only sounding like nonsense to me, and I wished I could figure out what was happening, because I couldn't understand a thing.

I opened my mouth to croak out the question of where Aunt Clara was, but instead I felt someone put a restraining hand on my arm, and I immediately felt calmer. Whomever it was, I felt safe with them, because I knew that they were there to protect me. I relaxed, the person's hand never leaving my shoulder. Finally safe...r...

I felt something hard and cold pressed against my skin, and I immediately whimpered, attempting to jerk away, but the hand found it's way to my own, squeezing it tightly, and once again I stopped fighting. Something about the tender grasp gave me comfort, and told me everything was in my best interest. And, for some reason, I believed it.

No sooner had the cold retracted then I felt suddenly lightheaded, as if everything was spinning once more. Slowly, the hand moved away from me, and I felt alone and helpless in my world of darkness. I groaned as the darkness seemed to grow stronger, washing over me with sudden force, and I couldn't resist it's harsh pull.


	6. I'm Awake & I'm Alive

_**A/N: **Another new chapter for you guys :) This one is all in Mitchie's POV, sorry, but Shane will be in the next chapter, I promise. Anyways, I think I'll just explain myself before you guys read the chapter- I just got my license not long ago (and no guys, I'm not 16, I just got it late) and in order for my insurance to be cheaper I had to watch this video which explained at least four different people's car accidents in detail... Mitchie's is a little mixture of two of them. The examples in the video were all extreme, but I figured I might as well use a few of the specific details from the video instead of just imaginging up my own accident scene. So all of this- what happened to Mitchie and Aunt Clara- is basically a true story, except slightly changed. That's all :) Anyways, on with the story! Review, please? ;D_

_Disclaimer: Umm... no, I don't own Camp Rock... silly FF._

* * *

_Now I'm in our secret place_  
_Alone in your embrace_  
_Where all my wrongs have been erased_  
_You have forgiven_  
_All the promises and lies_  
_All the times I compromise_  
_All the times you were denied_  
_You have forgiven_

* * *

**All **was finally quiet. There was no screaming. There was no sirens. There was no chaos, no crying, nothing except for a low, steady beeping noise. It was almost peaceful, if I could only erase both my memories of earlier, and the pain that bolted through my body.

No noises, no frightening noises. Although before, I had wished the voices would stop, now the silence seemed uncomfortable. Where was I? Was I dead? No, most likely not- I knew in my heart I wasn't. Sure, it sounds rather silly, but I'm not able how to describe it. I just know I'm not dead- although I suspect I was, or am still, quite near to it.

Something tells me I'm not alone, though, and I hesitate, knowing someone else is... wherever I am, with me possibly, but I'm just not sure who. I'm almost afraid to open my eyes to find out- some strange sixth sense makes me want to cower at the evil feeling accompanied with the person's presence. I hate having a sixth sense.

Suddenly, there's a new voice I haven't heard before, and the sound of heavy footsteps thudding against what I think is probably tile, and stopping a few feet short of where I'm lying. I tense up, still uncertain as to the two people who are currently next to me are, and wishing I could find the strength to force my eyes open, so I could figure out what in the world was going on around me. Nothing was making sense so far. One moment, there was screaming and crying and all sorts of terrible noises, and the next, nothing... with the exception of that blasted clicking noise.

"Mr. Torres? I believe it's time for you to go home- visiting hours are almost over." The new voice spoke, and every part of my body froze, as if quite uncertain I was actually hearing things straight. Maybe this whole experience, starting with Camp Rock, had just been a dream. A dream full of heart break, love, lies, truth, and most importantly, finding myself. Maybe none of it had been real...

A sigh came from next to me- and I knew this was no dream. The person didn't speak, didn't respond to the other voice in anyway, but suddenly I was aware of the fact someone was holding my hand, squeezing it gently, and I _knew_ just who it was. _Daddy._

I wanted to open my eyes, more than anything else. I _had_ to open my eyes- I had to see my father again, I had to speak to him, I had to return his loving touch. With all my strength, I willed my eyes to work with me, forcing myself to fight with every last ounce. And finally, I succeeded.

Everything was blurry, unfocused, and dull. There was no splash of color anywhere, just the same dull, grayish white color everywhere. I couldn't make out shapes, just the same plain white, and I groaned, attempting to make my eyes focus. I felt the person beside me stir suddenly, and I felt the grip on my hand tighten, which only made me fight more.

"She's awake..." The voice that had spoken before now had a new air about it, one filled with excitement and astonishment, and I knew the voice hadn't expected this. Maybe it had never expected me to wake up, at all.

Blinking again, as my vision slowly became clearer, I finally put a face on the voice. A man wearing a white cloak, with a clipboard in hand and a look of surprise on his face, stared back at me almost disbelievingly. It took only a few seconds for me to realize he was a doctor. _Doctor... I must be in the hospital..._ I briefly realized, although how I'd come to be here, I wasn't sure.

However, it wasn't the doctor that had my attention. It was the man sitting in the chair beside my bed, tears coming down his face as he held onto my hand as if for dear life, looking as though he wanted to spring up and hold me, but refrained from doing so as to not overwhelm me. I opened my mouth, ignoring the pain I felt in my throat, and squeezed his hand back.

"Daddy." My voice cracked before I could even finish the one word, but it was enough. He turned to look at me, not hiding the raw emotion on his face, and reached out to touch my cheek, his touch soft and tender as he brushed my cheek with his finger before pulling away.

"Mitchie... my baby..." He muttered, and I could feel warm tears cutting pathways down my cheeks at his words. Simple though the were, they were the first words I'd heard from him in over three years. I wanted to throw my arms around him and just weep, but I knew I couldn't. Not yet, anyways.

"Daddy." I repeated again, hardly able to get the word past my tongue. After all these years of believing he was dead, I couldn't help the shock I felt at the fact he was alive, well, and right in front of me, holding my hand as if his very life depended on it- as if, now that he had me back in his grasp again, he would never let me go. And I truly believed him- he wouldn't leave again.

"What happened?" I croaked, my voice still raw and sore, and the doctor (thankfully) handed me a glass of water, allowing me to empty the cup before he spoke.

"Do you remember anything?" He asked, instead of answering me directly, and I hesitated, closing my eyes and trying to think.

_Aunt Clara and I were arguing about something- wait, we had been arguing over my father, because she'd known the entire summer that he was alive and had never told me. I remember raising my voice and yelling at her, I remembered fighting with her. I remember my phone interrupting us, I remember getting Shane's text... Shane..._

"Shane." I choked out, suddenly remembering his text, and realizing how worried he must be. "Shane... where is Shane?" I asked, obliviously looking around. My father's brow furrowed together, and he cocked his head in my direction.

"Shane? Who's Shane?" He glanced from me to the doctor, who shrugged to say he didn't know, and I felt like crying out. Shane... where was Shane? Was he okay? Did he know about what had happened... what _had_ happened, anyways?

"Please, my phone... I need my phone." I asked, attempting to hide the rising fear from my tone, and the doctor hesitated.

"There's plenty of time for that later, Miss Torres," He began, but I cut him off instantly. I had to talk to Shane.

"I need my phone, _please_." I whispered, and with a nod, the doctor drew something from a draw in his counter and handed it over to me. I cradled it, giving a sigh of relief. Clicking on the screen, I instantly noticed my missed calls.

_Shane, Shane, and Shane again..._ I suddenly felt guilty, although I knew I had no control over what had happened. Someone should have informed him of everything, so he would know what had happened.

"I need to call him." I insisted, noting I had one new voice mail and raising the phone to my ear after pressing 'listen'. Shane's tired, nervous voice came through on the other end of the line, and I could tell he was unsettled. His very voice, however, brought me comfort, and I closed my eyes, sucking in a deep breath as I listened to him.

"Hey Mitchie, it's Shane... please call me back, I need to talk to you..." He cut himself off- I knew him well enough to know he'd wanted to say more, but had refrained from doing so, and the line clicked. 'No more new messages' The phone operator's voice told me, and I dropped the phone onto my lap, reaching out and dialing Shane's familiar number. A hand on top of mine, however, stopped me in my tracks. My father was gently prying the cell phone out of my grasp, shaking his head softly.

"There's plenty of time for that later, for now, you should listen." His tone was soft, and although he was partially scolding me for my impatience, I wasn't bothered. In fact, I complied, although I couldn't stop thinking about Shane, probably still waiting, his phone in his hand, staring at the screen and waiting for me to call. My heart ached at the very thought of how worried he must be. The doctor, however, was talking now, breaking me free from my thoughts.

"You had an accident, you and your Aunt." At the mention of Aunt Clara, I jumped, attempting to sit up straight but failing due to an extreme burst of pain coming from my back and shoulder.

"Aunt Clara. Is she alright?" I burst out, and the doctor hesitated, glancing from my father and back to me again, seemly reluctant to speak. Finally, he opened his mouth, and I felt a sense of panic wash over me.

"Your Aunt is in ICU, in critical condition, and we're not sure if she'll be alright yet. She's going into surgery in a hour, we'll know more then." He replied gently, as if he wished he didn't have to tell me, and once again, tears were streaming down my face. It was all my fault- this was all my fault. If it hadn't been for me getting so worked up, Aunt Clara would be alright. I would be okay. We'd all be home, happy and fine, and not messed up.

"What happened?" I asked, forcing myself to ask the dreaded question, although I knew I wouldn't want to know, I knew that I _had_ to find out. I had to know what had happened.

"Your car jumped off the road and hit a tree." The doctor swallowed, and I felt my dad's hand gripping my own tighter. My chest tightened as I waited for his dreaded words. "The car was smashed to pieces, bent in half from the force of the impact. Thankfully, paramedics managed to arrive on the scene rather quickly, and were lucky to be able to remove you and your Aunt from the wreck." He hesitated again, and I nodded to tell him to continue.

"According to onlookers, it was a horrible scene. Your Aunt went through the windshield when the car hit the tree- you would've, too, except..." He seemed uncertain to finish talking, probably wondering how much I could take. I swallowed but allowed him to finish. "Except that one of the tree's limbs went through the car, extending all the way to the other side, right through your shoulder, pinning you to the car's seat. You're lucky indeed, Miss Torres, because if that branch had been anywhere else, you most certainly would be in a much worse position right now." I didn't realize I was crying until I felt the tears roll down my face. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right that Aunt Clara had been the one hurt, or should I say hurt much worse than myself, because we'd both been injured.

"Your lower back was also crushed from the impact- although we did surgery on you, and it seems we've taken care of most of the damage. You'll have to be careful, I'd probably describe a wheel chair for about a week after you're released."

My dad's hand gripped my own, and I realized he hadn't let me go, even once, the entire time I'd been awake. And even before that... I'd felt someone there. He hadn't left my side at all.

"Can I see Aunt Clara?" I asked, my voice a whisper. Although I knew they would refuse to let me go and see her, I knew that I had to at least ask. With a sorry expression, the doctor shook his head.

"I'm sorry Miss Torres, perhaps at another time once she's in a stable condition and you're feeling a little better." He replied, and a fresh round of crying began.

"Don't cry, Mitchie." My father's arm wrapped around my fragile body, being careful not to hurt me further, and I gratefully returned the hug, burying my face into his shirt and crying onto his shoulder.

I couldn't shake the feeling that things would never be the same again.

* * *

**A/N: **_So, any thoughts about Mitchie's dad? *evil smirk* Review! ;D_


	7. When Your Head Is Spinning

_A/N: Hello again :) Haha, so I'm getting pretty good at all this updating, aren't I? :P Anyways, I don't have much to say except enjoy & REVIEW please ;) _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Camp Rock at all, thanks to those who thought I did ;P_

* * *

_And all of your weight  
All you dream  
Falls on me it falls on me  
And your beautiful sky  
The light you bring  
Falls on me it falls on me_

* * *

_[Shane's POV]_

**"C**ome on, Shane." It was Nate's voice, and Nate's hand that was tugging on my shoulder, telling me that I had no choice but to get up, shrug off everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, and get ready for the first stop on our fall tour. "We have to get to sound check, which is in a half an hour, so please get dressed." He shook my shoulder, and I nodded to show him I was listening, although I didn't necessarily want to. I didn't want to get up and perform for the crowd, smiling and jumping around on stage as if everything was perfectly fine- I just wanted to sit here, in this less-than-comfortable chair, and wait for Mitchie to call. I didn't want to move again until I heard Mitchie's angelic voice on the other end of the line. However, I knew Nate was determined to play this show tonight, and that, like it or not, I would be out on stage, singing my heart out and smiling brightly, while inside my heart died slowly and my mind remained on Mitchie. I might as well just get up, put on something decent, and go practice faking a smile while I did a brief sound check.

Forcing myself to move, I pulled on a simple outfit consisting of black skinny jeans and a plain blue t-shirt, before making my wait out of our dressing room and going to find Nate and Jason. It turned out they were already waiting for me in the sound check booth, Jason with his guitar in hand and Nate settled behind the drums.

Sound check passed by in a blur. I hardly knew what I was singing, what I was playing, or if I was even in sync with Nate and Jason, but I didn't care. They didn't mention how unfocused I was, or at least if they noticed, they must have felt sympathy. After what seemed like an eternity, the manager yelled that everything was working fine and we could go rest before the show.

Sitting in our extra-large dressing room, we sat apart from each other, all glancing around as if unsure whether to speak. I was lost in my thoughts of Mitchie, Nate was probably thinking about performing later, and if we'd all do ok, and Jason... well, he was just being Jason. He absent-mindedly stared into space, all of the suddenly making a loud, chirping noise, and both Nate and I turned to stare at him. Jason beamed back, as if he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary. Shaking my head, I stared down at my phone, which I still held in my hands, and wished fervently that Mitchie would call. Just one call, and I could go out there and perform my heart out without a problem. However, at the back of my mind, I knew she wasn't going to call. I had to figure out what was wrong.

"Shane," I realized that Nate was calling my name, and I glanced up quickly, catching his pitied expression. "We've got to go get ready, the show starts in a hour, and they expect us to be ready to go when it's showtime." He informed me, and once again, I nodded, watching as he pulled out a suit and tossed it at me. Thankfully, Nate had everything figured out, because I doubted I'd even be able to dress myself with the state I was in. "Now, please go and get changed. We'll meet you outside in a minute while they hook up the mics and everything." He finished, pulling on Jason's arm so he would be forced to leave the room too.

Great. It was soon to be showtime.

* * *

_[Mitchie's POV]_

**I** had finally managed to slow my tears and level my breathing, and it was then I realized how tired I was, and how sore my body had become. I wanted nothing more than to give in to my tired, aching body and allow it to rest, but at the same time, I didn't want to 'leave' my father when I'd just been reunited with him. I didn't want to go back to that world of darkness, when I could be spending time with my dad. He seemed to notice my torn expression, and gave me a crooked smile.

He didn't speak though, as I repositioned again, and I finally saw how uncomfortable he really was. Now that I saw it, I realized he'd felt this way ever since I woke up, and at the same time, I couldn't deny I didn't feel the same way. After so many years that we spent apart, I could neither one of us was sure how to react or treat the other. It was as if we were one, but yet we didn't even know each other.

Once I was better, and out of the hospital, maybe I could take some time and fix that. I'd heal our broken wounds, I'd fix the gap of uncertainty that held us both back from acting like normal father and daughter... but then again, we weren't exactly the 'normal' pair. Maybe at one point in our lives, we had been, but those days were long gone- although that didn't mean we couldn't change things and go back to the way we were before... before Mom died, and before our lives went plummeting down into a certain downfall.

First, I had to teach him to trust me- to feel comfortable around me. I had to show him that I wasn't going to break into a million pieces at a simple word, if that's what he thought... Oh, who was I trying to kid, I only acted tough. On the inside, I was delicate, broken, and most of all, easily shattered. If only he knew was a mess I really was- the craziness that exists deep inside of me, which I had managed to push down. I wanted to laugh at the thought, my mind flickering to a much darker time, when I'd been locked in therapy, acting insane, and fallen into deep depression. Oh, he had no idea how much he'd missed out on- so much he probably would be glad that he missed out on.

"I'm tired." I admitted, resting my head back on the light, fluffy pillows behind me before turning to meet my father's eyes. His reassuring smile made me calmer, and I fought to stay awake so I could keep talking. I didn't want to give in to the darkness just yet.

"Go ahead then, darling." I couldn't help the rush of emotion that flooded through me when my father called me 'darling', he used to always call me that before... the accident. No one had bothered to call me that ever since then, and it brought tears to my eyes. The simple word, the little glances, made love pour into my heart while at the same time, an dull aching that I couldn't understand.

"But I want to stay with you, Daddy." I replied tiredly, and he smiled again, squeezing my hand- not too firmly, yet not too soft, either. I returned the smile with a small one of my own, nodding. "Ok, Daddy." I continued, sounding much like a little kid again, and I could see his answering, soft grin. With him by my side, I felt safe. I felt comfortable, although there was the awkward knowledge of all the years of each other's lives we'd missed, and the brief feelings that I really didn't know the man sitting in the chair beside me, but I quickly pushed all thoughts away. I couldn't allow myself to think like that- he was my father, really.

Pushing all of my thoughts of anything, I leaned back, sucking in a deep breath as I felt myself relax. I attempted to let go of the past day's, and today's, events long enough to calm my insane thoughts. It apparently worked.

No longer attempting to fight the darkness, I closed my eyes with a tired sigh, allowing it to engulf me once more, but this time, of my own will. It didn't take long before I entered into the dark, and it consumed me, while I fell willingly into it.

* * *

_[Shane's POV]_

"**E**veryone, give it up for the amazing, the one and only Connect 3!" Screams filled the air, and I winced, glad to have my earphones in so I didn't get the full effect of their high pitched cries. Thank-goodness Mitchie had never screamed like that...

The lights flashed as we stepped out from the shadows, the screams erupting once again, and my smile faltered momentarily before I plastered it back on. The bright stage lights blinded me as they swirled around, creating a dramatic effect, and I locked hands with my brothers just in time to do our signature hand swing, up in the air, then down in a bow.

I could see a few of the fan's faces- lit up, screaming insanely, and some were even crying. I wanted to pull back, away from them, in disgust at that fact, but Nate and Jason's hands were firm on my own, and I couldn't drop the smile off of my face, so instead I widened my grin and beamed even more, glancing out at the crowd as if they were the best possible thing. They weren't.

"Get ready, Connecticut!" Jason yelled into the mic, a radiant smile bursting forth as he slid his fingers against the guitar's strings.

The music cued, as Nate yelled "One, two, three..." and a burst of flames burst from each end of the stage. On cue, I jumped forwards, making a sharp, jerking motion with my body to fit the music, and the audience went wild. The girls in the crowd leaned forwards, their cries growing louder, and their hands reaching out as I came closer to the edge of the stage, smiling brightly. Oh, if I only I felt as into this as I was acting. I strutted near the audience, as if to let them know what they couldn't have, and gave them my cocky, energetic smile as I faked it with the best of them. It turns out, I'm a pretty decent actor.

Everything was going pretty well- at least, as well as it could go with my mind completely focused on Mitchie the entire time- but I could still see Nate and Jason periodically glancing at me secretly, probably wondering how I was holding up. I tried to flash them 'I'm ok' smiles once in a while, but they didn't seen reassured. In fact, they seemed to watch me even more. I wanted to roll my eyes at them and tell them that I was able to do this- I could finish the show in one piece. I wasn't going to breakdown here, not now.

Returning my eyes to the audience, I prepared to do another stunt for them- one that was sure to blow them all away. It was by far the most dangerous one I'd done all night, and I couldn't help the flashy smile that lit up my face. If only I felt as confident as I was pretending to be, I might not have thought about Mitchie, or allowed myself to be distracted, right before I flipped.

Closing my eyes, already positioning my feet to hit the ground, a thought suddenly hit me as if a slap in the face, and I completely forgot what I was doing.

_What if I never saw Mitchie again?... _I wasn't quite sure where the thought came from, but it certainly caught me off guard, making my smile drop off my face and a horrid, deep pain slash through my heart.

Another burst of pain was soon to follow, but it wouldn't be mentally.

Instead of landing on my feet, as I'd anticipated, I hit the ground, one leg buckled under me, and next my knee smashed against the ground. A loud crack was heard, and I doubled over in pain, attempting to resist the urge to scream. The pain was so strong, I almost wondered if I was going to pass out.

There was a gasp that ran through the audience, and suddenly, everything was deathly still. Even the music cut off abruptly, and it seemed as if everyone held their breath for a moment, before everything sprang into chaos.

There was screaming and crying and suddenly, Nate and Jason were at my sides, their strong hands gripping me, attempting to pull me up.

"Come on, Shane, please get up." Nate whispered, and I glanced at him to see his worried expression as he stared at me, while Jason continued to tug on my other arm. "We can't carry you, please, get up." He begged, sounding close to crying, and I willed myself to be able to move my leg, to be able to get up and just shake this off, but I knew I couldn't. I tried, I really did, while Nate and Jason attempted to support me, but I didn't even manage to get off the ground, or move my injured leg, before I'd fallen back onto the ground, my face contorted in pain.

"I can't." I whispered, feeling weak and helpless, hanging my head. The audience was still groaning and crying, but much quieter as Nate turned, waving his hands to shush them.

"It'll all be okay, buddy," Jason replied, his hand firmly on my shoulder, although his face was pale. I closed my eyes, trying to calm my breathing and hoping the pain would ease, but no such comfort came. In the distance, I heard sirens, and secretly I couldn't wait for them to get here- to get me away from this noisy audience, away from all the lights and horrified stares. I just wanted to be away from it all, and maybe get some medicine for the pain. Anything but here.

I felt Nate's hand leave my arm, and I heard him talking quietly to someone else, and from his conversation, I guessed that the paramedics had arrived.

"Son," A man's deep voice reached my ears, and I slowly opened my eyes, looking up to meet one of the paramedic's stare. "Every thing's going to be just fine. We'll have you at the hospital in no time." He assured me, and I nodded to show I'd understood, and within a moment, two other paramedics had joined my side, lowering a stretcher down and helping me onto it. The entire audience refused to make a noise during this time, and for that I was thankful.

Oh, how I couldn't wait to get away from all of this.


	8. Enter Seth

**A/N:**_New chapter again :) This one is, once again, all in Mitchie's POV... and it introduces a new character... Seth :) Tell me what you guys think of him after you read the chapter, I'm interested to hear your ideas/thoughts about him ;) Also next chapter we'll find out if Shane's okay, and maybe a little more about Seth... ;) Anyways, review please, and enjoy the chapter!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Camp Rock, Jonas, Demi, or anything. I think I might own Seth though :):)_

* * *

_Sometimes I remember the darkness of my past_  
_Bringing back these memories I wish I didn't have_  
_Sometimes I think of letting go and never looking back_  
_And never moving forward so there'd never be a past_

* * *

_[Mitchie's POV]_

**I**'ve always been told that dreams can't hurt you, because they aren't real. However, I without a doubt believe that whoever came up with that statement, was dead wrong. Dreams are certainly real enough, and they can cut deep within the heart, leaving open wounds that can never fully be healed. So, to whoever said it first, they're freaking wrong.

I flinched, struggling to resist my dark memories, but they refused to back away, nagging at me until I gave in to their strong pull. I couldn't keep pushing them away, I was so very tired...

_The scene in front of me was a horrible, terrible one that would make any normal human being cry out in terror and sorrow, with the overhead lighting and rain only adding to the darkness of the moment. I heard screaming, and with a start, I realized the noise was coming from myself. I wanted to cover my eyes, to run away from the horrible picture in front of my eyes, but it felt as if my feet had been bolted to the ground. I couldn't budge, as much as my heart ached to cry out and run towards the scene, or as much as I wanted to turn and flee, and pray this was all just a dream. _

_Voices, muffled voices, were looming above me, although I couldn't make out what they were saying because the rain garbled any words coming out of their mouths. I screamed again, consumed with pain and fear, and struggling to move. _

A sweat broke out on my forehead as I attempted to escape from what I knew was coming, to stop it. I needed to stop the memories, to stop this horrible pain I felt inside. I needed to wake up.

The memories/dream refused to allow me too, instead pulling me deeper into their grasp.

_Something wet and sticky was trailing from my forehead, but I couldn't even move my hand to find out what it was. __I couldn't see anything, couldn't move. I couldn't move... it was then I realized that I couldn't feel my legs. It was as if they had simply disappeared from my nerve system, and with a gripping fear, I cried out again, my heart pounding in my chest so loudly I was sure everyone else must be able to hear it, even above the rain pouring down above us._

I screamed. I had to get out, now, I had to get away from these horrible memories. I had to escape from them now. I couldn't help myself from screaming again. Please, someone, help me escape...

_Suddenly, there was light, and I blinked in confusion as I finally saw my was loose pieces of metal and other unidentifiable things, and a large smashed piece of something lying in the road a few feet away. With a start, I realized it was a part of a car... _our_ car, to be more exact. __Before I had time to react, two pairs of strong hands reached in and delicately pulled me out of what I now saw was another part of the car, before putting me on a stretcher. It took me a second, as I surveyed the bloody scene, but I saw that our car had been cut straight in half. It was then I saw._

NO, my brain screamed, and I kicked out, wishing there was some way to break myself away from this nightmare, before I realized I was trapped. There was no way around it- whether or not, I was going to finish reliving the moments of _that_ day. It wasn't going to release me, until I'd gone through every single horror moment from that cursed day. I could feel tears streaming down my face, and the burning pain inside of me.

_It was her. _

No, please, no...

_I wanted to close my eyes, to turn my head away from the deathly scene, but I couldn't move. It was her... Mom..._

I screamed again, desperate to get away from the scene I knew was coming next.

_There was blood, lots of it, and..._

Something cut me off abruptly, a hard shake on the shoulders, and the pain coming from my injured shoulder was enough to wake me from my dream. _A dream, that's all it had been... a dream, a memory, from that doomed day. The day my life ended. _

"Hey!" A voice called out to me, still shaking me, and I wanted to push the person's hand off of me, but I didn't have the strength. Still gasping, my fingers clasped into fists, I couldn't help my terrified crying._"Wake up, Mitchie. It's time to wake up now..." _I paused, my heart jumping to my throat. I stopped struggling, and now attempted to force my eyes open.

"Shane...?" I asked, my voice hardly above a whisper, and I finally managed to force my eyes to work. My disappointment flared down, however, when I saw that it wasn't Shane. Immediately, the pain and sorrow came back, filling me once again, and I regarded the boy in front of me half curiously. Did I know him from somewhere?

His hair was shaggy blond, cut choppily, and his expression was one of concern. His hands retracted, and I realized he was the one who had been shaking me, and telling me to wake up. I flinched, drawing away from him, but he only tilted his head, regarding me with curiosity. Although he still looked worried, his stare was what caught my attention. He had bright blue eyes, beautiful blue eyes. I frowned, wondering why he was here, when he spoke.

"Are you okay?" He asked, and I hesitated, my hand unconsciously gripping the side of the bed tighter. My heart still pounding, the graphic images still flooding through my head. I nodded slightly, although I was far from okay. The boy stared at me, and I felt my heart jump. It was as if he was looking straight through me.

"Why do you lie?" He asked instead, and my eyes widened. He didn't appear to seem surprised by my lack of reaction, only amused, and slowly sat down in the empty chair beside me, where my father had been sitting previously.

My dad... he wasn't here. He'd left, gone home, probably. Somehow, this made me feel as if I'd lost another piece of myself. However, I decided that for now, it would be best if I focused on the boy in front of me.

"Because... because I'm afraid." I whispered, ducking my head so the boy couldn't see my tears. I didn't want him to see me crying, I didn't want to break down in front of this stranger. What he did next, however, surprised me.

He stepped forwards, and I flinched, wondering what he was going to do, when I felt something wrap around me, tightening and comforting, and I realized he was hugging me. Instantly, I felt a sort of peace come over me, and as he reached over to wipe away my tears with his finger, I smiled at him gratefully.

"It was you." It really wasn't a question, and the boy didn't respond, because he knew that I already knew the answer to my question-that-wasn't-a-question. I knew, without a doubt, this was the boy who had touched my shoulder when I was lying on the ground, half-dead, right after the car crash.

The boy nodded at me, as if to completely confirm what I already knew, and I frowned, wondering _why_. Why he had even decided to comfort me in the first place, why I had felt so serene when he touched me, and why... why he was here, sitting next to me, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I didn't even know his name.

"What's your name?" Why not start with that question, at least, since the boy had failed to give any indication of what he might be called, and the fact I was getting rather sick of just referring to him as 'the boy'. He smiled, the first real expression I'd seen on his face (minus the concern earlier, of course), and I couldn't help but return the gentle grin.

"Seth." He replied briefly, nodding his head, as if he was clarifying this fact. "My name is Seth."

"Seth," I repeated, allowing the name to run through my mind a few times. "Well, Seth, it's nice to meet you- my name is Mitchie." I reached over with my uninjured arm and shook his hand, smiling back at him as I did so. He hesitated, then after a second, took my hand in his own slender one and returned the shake gently.

"So, Seth, " I settled back against my pillows once more, trying to focus on the boy in front of me and ignore the nightmare I'd had, because I didn't want to remember everything that had happened. Then I realized that Seth had awakened me just in time- right before the worst was to come. He'd saved me, once again.

I know it sounded silly- to believe that Seth had saved me twice, just from a single touch, but I knew in my heart it was true. There was something special about his soft hands, and I knew that just by a single grasp, he could probably do much more. Maybe he'd saved others lives before as well. Maybe... there was so many maybes in my life, that I really didn't know what to do with them all anymore. Maybe I should just stop imagining the if's and but's about my life, and focus on the solid facts. Somehow, though, I doubted I could really do that. I always was a dreamer. Such a fact simply couldn't be changed.

"Mitchie?" I blinked, and glanced over to see Seth waiting. I raised my eyebrows at him, wondering what had caused him to break me out of my thoughts, and then I realized he had just done me a favor. I was always stuck in my own little world, my own thoughts, my own little twisted mind. I glanced down at my fingers, picking at the black nail polish that was beginning to chip, and waited for Seth to speak again. "Would you like to tell me what your nightmare was about?" He asked instead, and I froze. I really wasn't sure why he asked, because I had a feeling that he already knew what the answer would be.

I closed my eyes, leveling out my breathing, as all those wicked, tormenting memories came flooding back- some of which I'd dreamed of, and some of which I'd pushed to the back of my mind for a long, long time. Things that shouldn't be remembered.

"I... I..." My voice cracked, and I did all I could to told back any oncoming tears, but failed. Seth regarded me with a strange emotion on his face, before he leaned forwards again.

"You know, Mitchie," He whispered, his hand on my cheek as he raised my head so I had no choice but meet his own unwavering gaze, "It's okay to cry when you loose someone."

So, he already knew then. I had suspected as much, at least, but still his words cut through me. _It's okay to cry when you loose someone. _For some reason, I'd always been the one who had believed that it was wrong to show emotion- it was wrong to cry in front of others, it was wrong to place everything you'd been carrying on them. But something in Seth's tone convinced me it was okay.

I leaned forwards, grabbing onto Seth, who stiffened for a few seconds until he realized what I was trying to do, and then leaned into my grasp, wrapping his arms around me while I clung to him for dear life, unable to stop the tears pouring down my cheeks, or slow them. I didn't even try, because I knew I would fail.

I cried for the accident- for my dead mother, for the father I thought I had lost. I cried for Aunt Clara, for all the onlookers, for Shane, who didn't even know anything had happened yet. I cried for all my family, who had to put up with me when I was going through my darkest days. And mostly, I cried for myself. For the pain that would never go away, for all the horrors I'd had to see in my short lifetime, for everything I had been more, for being selfish. I cried for everything. And the entire time, Seth held me, his light touch never wavering, but simply hanging onto me, as if he knew this was what I needed. I needed to cry.

I cried for everything we'd never get back again.


	9. When It All Comes Crashing Down

**A/N: **_Back again with a new chapter! Sorry it took me so long, but it's been a long, hard week and I haven't found the time to update. In better news though, Demi Lovato replied to me on her official twitter! So that was amazing :):):D Maybe I'll even add a little happiness into the next chapter because of Demi...:D We shall see. Anyway, there's some news about Shane for you all... and a new side of Mitchie's Dad...:D Please review & let me know what you guys think (please), I'm working really hard to update this story for you guys, and I'd love to see at least a few reviews that show my hard work is appreciated. Seriously, I've been staying up until 11/12 at night just to finish these chapters :) So... yeah, that's all :) REVIEW ;) Oh & don't forget to enjoy as well :)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Camp Rock... I think we all know that though._

* * *

_You can't take away my strength_  
_Fix these broken veins_  
_There's nothing left to fight (Live free or let me die)_  
_You can't take away my pride, I won't be denied_  
_There's nothing left to fight (Live free or let me die)_

* * *

**"W**ell, Mr. Gray, the bad news is that your leg is broken," The nurse told me as she stared down at her clipboard, obviously reading notes from it. I tensed- wondering what this would mean for our tour briefly, but the nurse was now talking again. "The good news is that they can get you in so you can get that leg cast up in about a half an hour, and after that, and after you sign a few papers, you're free to go. Thankfully, the break wasn't very severe, so you won't have to worry for long- we'll just send you home with a pair of crutches, and you should be fine, using that leg in no time." Her tone turned cheery, and for a moment it almost looked like she was tempted to do that grandmother thing where they pinched your cheek because 'he's just so darn cute', and I pulled farther away from her, just to be safe. He wasn't going to take any chances in that department.

"But, other than that, every thing's fine. I'll leave you three boys alone until the doctor comes to get you." With a last smile, she left the room, shutting the door firmly behind her, and I couldn't help collapsing back onto the bed with a groan. My leg was still hurting like crazy, although they had finally given me something for all the pain, but I was still happy to just be alone with Nate and Jason- this entire night, ever since I'd come down on my leg in the middle of the show, I hadn't had a moment to just relax, think rationally, and be _alone_. Once they'd managed to wheel me off-stage, I'd been surrounded by nurses and doctors and others (I wasn't sure who they were, or why they were there), with lots of noise bustling around me, and giving me a rather bad headache.

"See, you'll be fine, Shane." Nate smiled, although I could see the worried look he held behind his smile, and I sighed. I knew what he was thinking, despite what he'd always thought, he wasn't that great of an actor.

"I know you're worried about the tour, Nate." I replied bluntly, and I saw Nate's shoulders drop, an indication that I was right. I wanted to roll my eyes- here I was in the hospital, and Mitchie was who knows where, and all Nate could think about was the stupid tour. In a strange way, though, I could understand his reasoning, and so I didn't push him on the matter. "I don't know what's gonna happen- you think they would cancel it just because of this?" I gestured to my leg, wondering aloud if they actually, really would. It certainly was a possibility.

"What else could they do, Shane?" Nate snapped, although I knew his anger wasn't directed towards me, but it still was like a blow. His tone implied that he was mad at me, because this was all my fault. I knew that wasn't what he meant, but I still felt compelled to defend myself.

"I can't help what happened, you know." I retorted, somewhat angrily, and Nate turned, looking ready to attack for a moment before he managed to compose himself. His expression softened, and he sighed, running his hands through his curly hair, looking slightly lost.

"I'm sorry, Shane, I don't mean to sound like I'm blaming you- I'm not." He paused, releasing another breath, and shrugged his shoulders. "I just don't know what to do at the moment."

I saw the stress radiating from him, and I sighed, feeling a little bad for snapping at him for no reason. I opened my mouth to apologize, but Nate held up his hand, shaking his head at me.

"It's okay. Let's just get our minds off of everything and watch some TV, if you want." I nodded, and Nate clicked the TV on. I wasn't exactly in the mood to watch any TV right now, but I knew Nate needed a distraction, and if he wanted to turn on the TV, then I wasn't going to stop him.

The TV screen popped up, showing a news reporter, and in a small screen next to her, a horrifying scene. I froze, my hands gripping the edges of the bed until my knuckles turned white, and I sat up straighter, trying to tell myself I was just being paranoid.

No, it wasn't what I thought. No, that wasn't Mitchie's Aunt's car that I saw. I wanted to close my eyes, to turn off the TV, to deny that it was their car (it couldn't be... could it? I doubted there was many of those cars like hers... it was definitely... _unique_.)

Nate frowned at me, probably wondering why I looked so panic-stricken, and I shook my head at him, grabbing the remote from his hands and turning the volume louder.

"Two days ago, a horrible car crash occurred in Wycoff, New Jersey. Paramedics and other officials on the scene revealed that it was one of the worse car crashes they've dealt with, and onlookers were horrified by the gruesome site..." The camera zoomed in to show pictures of the car crash, and I felt my heart stop. It felt as though a knife had been plunged through my heart, and killed me right then and there. "There were two passengers in the car, both were still alive but in critical condition, they have been admitted to the local hospital. Officials have refused to release any word on their condition as of now..."

"No!" A cry I didn't know was my own tore through the room, cutting off the reporter's calm, collected voice, filled with pain and grief. I slammed my fist down against the bed, blinded by my sorrow and horror, and Nate and Jason turned to stare at me in shock.

"Shane! What's wrong?" Nate asked, looking shocked and horrified by my sudden outburst, as he rushed to my side.

"Mitchie!" I groaned, curling my palms into fists and leaning forwards, feeling as if I had just had my heart torn out of my chest. "That's Mitchie's Aunt's car!" I exclaimed, and Nate's expression turned to one of horror, and he turned back towards the TV, a whole new look on his face as he surveyed the car.

"Are you sure? There could be other cars.." I shook my head, cutting him off.

"It's definitely Mitchie's. Look, you can even see the bumper sticker..." I closed my eyes as they zoomed in towards the destroyed car, my face buried in my hands as I attempted to stop crying. I couldn't help myself as tears poured down my cheeks. I might never see Mitchie alive again- I didn't even know if she _was_ alive.

The room filled with a horrible, tragic silence.

* * *

Seth still held onto me, even though I'd stopped crying some time ago. It was as if we didn't want to let each other go- as if we were afraid to loose each other if we did, although I don't know where that feeling came from. In some unspoken way, though, we understood, and I didn't want to let go of Seth yet, either. It was as if we were long lost twins or something (the thought made me want to laugh), but seriously, it felt as though we already knew each other, even though I'd never seen him before in my life.

I sighed, still feeling Seth's breath on my cheek, and I knew I should pull away even though I didn't want to. I was about to speak- there were so many unanswered questions that I wanted to ask him- when loud, heavy footsteps could be heard from down the hall.

I felt Seth stiffen, and I could feel as he raised his head off my shoulder, his whole body tense. I didn't have the time to wonder why he was suddenly so nervous when the footsteps stopped at what I guessed was our door.

Seth ripped himself away from me, not even attempting to be gentle about it, and I had to catch myself, wincing as my injured shoulder screamed back at me from the sudden movements. Breathing heavily, I managed to right myself, and frowned as I saw my dad standing in the doorway, a look I never could've even imagined on his face.

"How _dare_ you!" He screamed, his tone harsh and almost... _scary_, something I'd never heard from him before. He'd always been kind and gentle and, sure, he's gotten angry once or twice before, but never like this. I shrunk back, pushing myself into the pillows, and I saw Seth glance nervously in my direction, as if he knew I was scared and wanted to protect me, but was afraid of what my dad would do if he did... I furrowed my eyebrows. I couldn't be reading Seth right, because my dad wouldn't hurt a fly...

The look on my dad's face, however, said he was ready to tear into the boy sitting in front of him, and I shouted when he lunged forwards, attempting to grab hold of Seth. Seth, however, was quicker. In a movement, he was standing away from the chair where my dad had just fallen, positioning himself between me and my dad, and I briefly wondered if he'd done that on purpose.

Dad looked furious. He stood, gave Seth the most evil, scariest look I've ever seen him give, and advanced towards us. Seth didn't move, instead stepping closer to me, looking ready to attack. My dad's hand shot forwards when he reached the two of us, going past Seth, and towards me. With a shriek, I jumped away, my heart pounding in my chest as I realized what had just happened. My dad had just tried to hit me.

However, I saw that his hand had kept going, and I felt a sense of relief as I realized he hadn't been aiming for me at all, but the large, round button (the one that would call the nearest nurse into my room) beside my bed. His hand slammed down on it, and I flinched, wanting to reach out and stop him, but too afraid to move. Seth was still beside me, glaring defiantly at Dad, and I wondered how in the world they knew each other, and why my dad was so angry at him being here.

"Leave my daughter _alone_." Dad thundered, stepping forwards threateningly. Seth's face hardened, but I couldn't decipher his expression before a nurse rushed in, her hands flying to her mouth as she stopped in shock, probably wondering what in the world was going on with my dad's angry expression, my scared one, and Seth's... well, I wasn't sure what he was thinking at the moment. His expressions were slightly harder to read, escpecially right now.

"Get security!" My dad growled at the poor, shocked nurse. He stepped closer to me, his hand taking my own, and I could see Seth tense visibly, his whole body trembling. Whether it was from fear or anger, I didn't know. "This boy-" Dad thrust his hand towards Seth, "Poses a serious threat to my daughter and I want him removed immediately!" He yelled, and Seth stepped back, for the first time seemingly realizing he would be thrown out, and there was nothing he could go about it.

"No!" I objected immediately, unsure of why my father was acting in such an strange way, but knowing that Seth was not 'posing a serious threat' to me, or anyone else, for that matter. Sure, I'd only known him a couple of minutes, but I just knew that he wouldn't hurt me, and that he would go out of his way to protect me. Sure, it sounds silly, but I was confident that with Seth here, I was safe.

I felt my dad's grip on my hand tighten, and I whimpered, tugging at his hand slightly to try to get him to release the pressure. He did no such thing- in fact I could swear he actually tightened his grip instead of loosening it, like he should have. Seth's eyes narrowed as he noticed my discomfort, that strange, foreign look in his eyes that I still couldn't decipher, and he stepped forwards, his palms curled into fists. My dad either didn't notice, or ignored him.

The nurse had finally stopped just standing there, looking horribly shocked and confused, and had pulled something out of her pocket.

"Security!" She shouted into the microphone, much louder than she needed to, and I winced again. Seth looked panicked, and my father's triumphant glare said nothing.

In moments, my room, which only moments ago had been a peaceful sanctuary, at least with Seth nearby, was filled with dozens of police, doctors, and other uniformed officials I didn't recognize, and once my father pointed at Seth, they surrounded the boy. He stepped back, his hands held above him, and I gave a shout as they tackled him to the ground. I continued to yell as they pulled him up roughly- he hadn't even resisted them, and they'd treated him like a criminal.

"Don't believe him, Mitchie." Seth shouted, above the noise and my father's voice, which grew louder to try to cover over Seth's. "Don't believe." He began to struggle as they dragged him out of the room. The once-controlled boy I'd known was gone, and he was kicking and screaming every chance he got, a look of pure panic written on his face, as though he was afraid of leaving me alone with Dad.

"He's a liar!" Seth yelled once more, before the security guards managed to pull him out of the corridor. I felt my dad's hand tightened even more around my own, and this time I let out a squeak of protest, and finally he turned to look at me.

"Daddy, you're hurting me." I admitted, and immediately he released my hand, an apologetic, once-again-gentle look replacing his previous one. Somehow though, now that I've seen the other side of him, it makes me uncomfortable to be sitting here with him, and no one else be around.

"Daddy? Why were you so angry with Seth?" I was cautious, but I had to know. I saw my dad stiffen again, and I inwardly flinched, wondering if I'd just sent him back into an uncontrollable rage, but thankfully, he sighed, and didn't jump up from the chair with rage in his eyes.

"It's been a long day, Mitchie dear, why don't you just rest for now, and we'll talk in the morning?" He suggested, but I shook my head, even though I was slightly tired. I wanted to know why he thought Seth was 'dangerous', and I wanted to find out which one of them was right. Seth had accused my dad of lying... (or had it been something more?), and my dad had claimed that he 'posed a threat' to me. I needed to know (somewhat ironically), which one of them was the liar.

"Come on, Dad, tell me. I need to know. Seth wouldn't hurt me." I objected, and once again, there was a tense, silent moment as my Dad's expression hardened.

"No, I don't believe he would." He muttered, and I had to strain just to hear him. "However, there are certain..._ issues _that he just can't help. Flaws in his character, so to speak. I just need you to trust me and stay away from him, do you hear me? Mitchie?" I nodded, only half-heartedly, though, because I knew I would be seeing Seth again. Don't ask me how, but I just _knew_ that I'd be disobeying Dad and going to hear Seth's side of the story, because I was certain that my dad wasn't telling the full truth.

"Ok, Daddy." I smiled, although it was hardly real at all, and laid my head back against the pillow. "You know, I am rather tired, maybe I'll take your advice." I replied, the smile lingering on my face as I closed my eyes and let out a soft sigh.

Oh no, I didn't trust him, not for one moment.

The moment I found a way to, I was going to talk to Seth.


	10. Need To Be Where You Are

**A/N: **_Hey guys! I'd like to say I'm extremely sorry that it took me so long to update, I've been really busy. Hopefully I'll find some more time to write soon, so I can update some more on not only this story, but my others. Anyway, I'll be brief, please review & I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! It's all in Shane's POV. :D Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Camp Rock... or Shane, or Mitchie, or pretty much anything. So yeah... I'm completely broke. ;)_

* * *

_Don't leave me here like this_  
_Can't hear me scream from the abyss_  
_And now I wish for you - my desire_  
_Don't leave me alone_  
_Because I can barely see at all_  
_Don't leave me alone_

* * *

**I **couldn't breathe. My whole body felt as if it was on fire. The pictures of the car crash still fresh in my mind made me close my eyes and try to force out the images. It looked so bad that I really wasn't sure anyone could survive such a crash. This thought made my heart ache, as if I'd lost a piece of myself. Mitchie was my other half, and without her I was... broken.

"Mitchie." Nate sucked in his breath, probably wondering if he should've spoken. This was the first word any of us had uttered since that devestating news report, and he looked like he kind or regretted speaking. His tone told me that he was close to crying himself, but I didn't bother to check and see if I was right.

_Mitchie..._ I could see her bright, somewhat awkward smile in my mind, her beautiful silky hair, her eyes lit up as she smiled back at me. More tears slid down my cheeks- I might never get the chance to see her again.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I glanced up, meeting Jason's sad eyes. He was so quiet, I'd almost forgotten he was even here.

"Hey, don't give up, ok? We don't know anything for sure." He insisted, and I knew he was right. I had to keep believing that Mitchie was alive- that she was okay, that she would be okay- that I would see her again, laughing and smiling and healthy and _alive_. _She'll be okay._

"Is there any way of finding out if she's..." I cut myself off, not able to stop my voice from cracking. Nate jumped up immediately, nodding, as if he wanted to help as much as possible. It was as if he felt guilty for everything that had happened.

"I'll get right on it, okay? Once I find out all the 'local' hospitals in Wycoff, we can call them, and find out which one Mitchie's at." Nate replied, and I nodded, only half-hearted listening. I still couldn't block out horrible mental images flashing through my head, of Mitchie being hurt, of Mitchie being... _dead. _I wanted to block all the gruesome thoughts from my mind, but it was impossible. It was as if my mind _wanted _me to imagine these horrible prospects. I didn't understand why they wouldn't stop. It had been this way ever since I hadn't been able to get through to Mitchie- I'd always known something had to be wrong, I just hadn't imagined _this_. I just wanted to curl up and die, knowing what had happened. It wasn't fair.

A few moments later, I was still wallowing in my horrific, painful thoughts, and only the sound of running footsteps broke me out of my thoughts. I glanced up, my vision still blurry from my tears, and caught sight of Nate's unreadable expression, and knew instantly he'd found something out about Mitchie.

"What is it?" I couldn't tell if it was good news or bad news, and I prayed fervently that it would be good. I couldn't handle anything else at the moment. Nate, however, shook his head, as if he could read my thoughts, and a small smile broke out on his face.

"Well, I managed to get the location of the hospital that Mitchie's currently at. They refused to release anything else to me except that she's still in rather critical condition, and only immediate family is being admitted. I had a hard time even getting them to tell me she was there- apparently her father signed some stuff that, basically, says not to release information regarding Mitchie to anyone. I had to bribe the receptionist with VIP tickets to our next concert just to get it out of her."

Something in my head clicked. Never once, in the entire time that Mitchie and I had been together, I had never heard her mention her father. Not even once. It hadn't even dawned on me until just now. However, it seemed a little strange to me that Mitchie had just 'failed' to mention him, and he was just now oh-so-conveniently coming into the picture. Something about the situation told me there was going to be trouble, and made me extremely uncomfortable, although I wasn't sure why. He was her father, why was I suddenly so suspicious of him? Ugh, I needed to get over these insane feelings. What was I worried about?

Telling myself I was being stupid, I pushed thoughts of Mitchie's dad out of my mind, focusing instead on just Mitchie. I needed to figure out a way to see Mitchie. Maybe first, I should stop with finding out when I could get out of this horrible hospital I was in now, which was now Nate's current mission.

"Can you find out how much longer before I'm released?" I turned to Nate, who nodded quickly, looking ready to charge out of the room and go find out what I'd just asked. I knew he was trying to make up for earlier, and at the same time, I could see the concern in his eyes. He was just as worried about Mitchie as I was. Somehow, this made me feel better.

"And then we need to come up with a plan to actually see Mitchie, so once you get back we can work on that." I added, getting another quick nod from Nate.

"I'm on it!" Jason jumped from his head, a smile on his face, and both Nate and I raised my eyebrows on him.

"Jason- it can't involve birdhouses!" We yelled after him, and he stopped, his face falling.

"I... I'm not on it." He sighed heavily, looking dejected, and returned to his seat. I felt sort of bad, knowing how easily his feelings were hurt, but was also too consumed with thoughts of Mitchie to give it much thought. I'd apologize later.

I turned, to continue talking to Nate, only to realize he was already gone. I sighed - one moment's distraction and Nate had already scrambled away.

* * *

Two days. A horrific, boring, torturous two days. And then finally, I was being helped out of the boring, uncomfortable bed I'd been on for the past two days, and being handed my old clothes, and pointed to the bathroom, told to change. I couldn't have been happier, or more impatient, to finally be free of this white-walled place. In just a few hours, I'd be with Mitchie. I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath. I couldn't wait to see her, although I was slightly nervous. I was worried about how bad her injuries would be - I released my shaky breath, trying to calm myself.

The private jet was already a few blocks away, waiting for us, and I ignored the pain in my leg as I dressed, as quickly as was possible with a broken leg, and finally managed to get ready.

"Let's go!" I announced loudly as I stepped towards Nate and Jason, a smile on my face. Hopefully the smile fooled them enough that they wouldn't ask questions, although they probably knew me well enough that they knew I was terrified of what I was going to face when we finally arrived in New Jersey in two hours. I could hardly even imagine being able to sit still for two hours (maybe more), with the state I was in. I just wanted to be there, holding Mitchie's hand, while at the same moment, I wanted to run away from the whole situation and maybe throw up. The thought of Mitchie being hurt made me sick to my stomach.

I was afraid.

I jumped as Nate slapped my back, smiling comfortingly at me, as if he could already guess what I was thinking.

"It's gonna be okay, man." He said, and I only returned his smile with a small one of my own, something just telling me that there still was that chance that everything _wasn't_ okay, or going to be okay. And most likely, it might turn out that things weren't okay, at all.

* * *

I almost jumped out of the car as it slowed down in front of Wycoff's small hospital, not even waiting for the driver to try to find a parking space. I landed, just barely, on my feet and immediately ran up the steps, my head low so as to hopefully avoid people recognizing me. I didn't need that right now- a mob of screaming fans crowding around me, trapping me, delaying me from seeing Mitchie...

I shook my head, hoping it would cause my hair to fall forwards and cover most of my face, but before I could advance another step, someone grabbed my arm, pulling me back. I paused, once I realized that there was no screaming girl crying, or even looking interested. It was a boy, with shaggy blond hair, and bright blue eyes.

"Listen, I need a favor." His tone was low, and he kept glancing around nervously, as if he was looking for someone. He looked up quickly, meeting my confused gaze, and while he was silent, I tried to get away.

"I'd love to help you, but I really need to-" The boy shook his head, cutting me off, and then continued on as if he'd never even been interrupted.

"I need you to tell Mitchie something for me, please." His voice was barely above a whisper, and I had to strain just to hear him. When I heard Mitchie's name, however, I stiffened, and decided to hear him out, both curious and on guard about what he had to say to Mitchie. He swallowed, once again his eyes scanning the crowd as he shifted in place, looking trapped.

"Yes?" I probed, and his eyes returned to me.

"Please, this is important, ok? Can you tell Mitchie that I need to meet up with her, somewhere _he's_not around, because I need to explain some stuff. And please... please tell her not to trust him." He sounded like he was on the border of getting down on his hands and knees and begging me to relay the message to Mitchie, so I nodded, trying to make sense of what this strange boy was talking about. I opened my mouth to ask him to explain, but suddenly I saw him jump, his eyes finally spotting someone in the crowd, and he turned around quickly. "Please tell her." He said one last time, before he took off running.

I stood for a second, trying to comprehend what in the world had just happened. Who was he, and how did he know Mitchie? Maybe he was an old friend...

I shook the thought from my head, figuring that Mitchie probably would've mentioned him at some point or another. I glanced towards the hospital door - maybe I should just ask Mitchie.

"Hey man," I turned around quickly, before realizing it was only Nate and Jason. "Why aren't you inside, with Mitchie?" He asked, nodding his head towards the large building on my right. I opened my mouth to tell him about what had just happened, but decided against it and instead shrugged. I don't know why I didn't want to fill Nate in, but something told me to talk to Mitchie before I told anyone else.

"Let's go." I smiled, although my heart was still pounding, and turned, heading up the small flight of stairs.

* * *

"What in the world do you mean?" I snapped, staring down, somewhat angry with the receptionist shrugging up at me. "Why can't we see Mitchie?"

"I'm sorry, but I have papers here signed by Miss Torres' father that clearly state that Miss Torres is not to have any visitors." She smiled, although I knew she was annoyed with us, since we were testing her patience. Sadly for her, we weren't leaving anytime soon. At least, not without seeing Mitchie. I couldn't leave without seeing her.

I swallowed, closing my eyes for a brief moment while I sucked in a deep breath. There had to be some exception, some way to get to Mitchie. We'd come this far already...

"We really need to see Mitchie," Nate tried, stepping forwards as he saw the stressed expression on my face. "Please. Can't you make an exception?" The receptionist glanced at us, seeming to consider our offer, her eyes switching between the three of us. With a sigh, she glanced down before responding.

"Well..." She hesitated, as if appearing to contemplate her response. "No." She replied flatly, a frown on her face as she waved her hands as if to tell us to give up and go away. I resisted the urge to yell back at her - yelling would most likely get me nowhere, and tried to think of something - anything - that could get us in to see Mitchie. Nate however - thankfully - was a quicker thinker than I was. He stepped forwards, grinning down at her charmingly.

"Would four VIP tickets to our next concert change your mind?" He asked, raising his eyebrows at her, and I saw her pause for a moment.

"No." She replied, again, and I saw Nate sigh as he ran his hands through his hair. "However," She continued, and immediately the three of us froze, turning to stare at her hopefully. "A private concert at my daughter's school might, though." She returned Nate's smile with one of her own, her extremely white teeth gleaming in the light. All three of us groaned.

"Fine." The words came out of my mouth faster then I liked, but I knew in my head I wouldn't say no. I had to see Mitchie, I needed to hear her voice again. "We'll do it." I resisted the urge to groan again as the receptionist's smile brightened, and she nodded eagerly.

"Miss Torres is in Room 321, on the third floor." She told us brightly, and I nodded before taking off in the direction she was pointing. Nate and Jason hurried to catch up to me, taking long strides to keep up. I didn't slow my speed, or even glance back at them, as I made my way towards the elevator.

It wasn't hard to find Mitchie's room, once we were up on the third level. A smiling doctor pointed us down the corridor and gave us quick directions which, thankfully, were easy to follow.

I stopped, taking a deep breath as I read the numbers on the door in front of me - _321_. I froze, my breath catching in my throat as I took a moment to calm myself, my emotions overwhelming me. I struggled to return my breathing to normal, and of it's own accord, my hand reached out and grasped the door's handle.

Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open.


	11. Apologize

**A/N: **Hey guys :) Sorry I haven't updated that recently, I've been pretty busy, but to make up for it, I have an extremely long chapter ahead (4,000+) :D Plus, I've added some Smitchie! I hope that it's okay - honestly, I wasn't that pleased with how this chapter turned out, but I'll let you guys be the judge of it :D Enjoy & please review ;)

Disclaimer: I only own Camp Rock in my own little La La Land :(

_

* * *

_

_Do I expect to change, the past I hold inside,_  
_With all the words I say,_  
_Repeating over in my mind,_  
_Some things you can't erase, no matter how hard you try,_  
_An exit to escape is all there is left to find._

* * *

**T**houghts of Seth and my dad still swirled in my head, although both had left a long time ago. I wasn't sure what to make of what had happened earlier- I'd never seen my dad with such pure, raw anger and hatred in his eyes. What might have shocked me more, though, was the fear in Seth's eyes - not just the usual fear, either, but a deep, tormented fear that said he'd been in this position before, and it hadn't ended well in the past. My head was spinning, and I groaned as I leaned back against the pillows, allowing them to cradle my body. I closed my eyes, trying to picture today's earlier events again. I obviously was missing something - something major, and potentially dangerous.

I stiffened as I heard the door to my private room creak open, and I immediately leveled my breathing, relaxing against the pillows in hopes that he'd think I was sleeping, and leave. I didn't want to have another 'talk' with my dad - I wasn't sure it go very well. Something about the intense hatred in his eyes made me question just how 'loving' he was.

I heard footsteps advancing into the room, and I groaned inwardly. I'd hoped that if he saw I was resting, he would simply turn and walk away, but there was no such luck. There never would be. The footsteps kept coming, although slightly off, as if he was possibly off balance, or something. Another thing I didn't understand - one more thing to add to the list of confusing things about Dad.

The footsteps stopped at my bed, and I heard him take a deep breath, filled with pain, and I was instantly confused. Somehow, when he sucked in his breath sharply, I knew something was off. I wasn't curious enough to open my eyes, for fear he'd stay even longer then, but I still couldn't resist wondering why his breathing sounded so pained.

The seat beside my bed made a small noise as he sat down beside me, and hesitantly took hold of my hand. I could feel him shaking next to me, his hand clammy, his breath coming in gasps now. It was then that I realized two things.

One, this was not my dad, but someone else entirely. And two, there were more people just outside my door.

I slid my eyes open, once I was sure that my dad was no where around, and glanced at the person sitting beside me, staring at me with pain in his eyes. Dark hair, chocolate eyes... I gasped, and tried to sit up. _Finally._

"Shane." I breathed, a smile lighting up my face at the sight of him. "Oh, Shane." I whispered, as he leaned forwards and engulfed me in a gentle hug, being careful to avoid my injured arm. I breathed in his scent, closing my eyes as I leaned against him, attempting to control my tears. _Finally, someone safe._

"Mitchie." He whispered in return, his voice muffled in my tangled hair, his arms still wrapped around me as if he never wanted to let me go. I didn't want him to, either. I wanted to stay here, forever in this moment, away from the rest of the world and it's insanity, and safe here in Shane's arms. Unfortunately, I knew that was impossible.

"Mitchie." I pulled away as I heard two other voices, and glanced up to see Nate and Jason approaching me hesitantly, bright smiles on their faces although they looked slightly uncomfortable (they probably were just worried that Shane would snap at them for breaking us apart). I smiled back at them, genuinely happy for the first time in days.

"Hey guys." I replied gently, and it only took a moment before Jason leapt forwards, pulling me up into a warm hug. Although the motion pained me slightly, I kept my whimper to myself, knowing that Jason was trying his hardest to be gentle. Nate rolled his eyes from behind Jason before tapping him on the shoulder, muttering something to him about letting go of me. Jason released me, and I breathed a sigh of relief (inconspicuously, of course). Nate simply smiled at me, nodding, as if that was his way of hugging me. I smiled back, knowing that Nate wasn't being rude, but just being himself.

"I'm so sorry about everything." Jason burst out suddenly, breaking the somewhat awkward silence. All three of us turned to stare at him, and I felt my chest tighten.

"It's not your fault." I replied quietly, glancing up at him while trying to fight back the tears from my eyes. I bit my lip, struggling to keep myself from shaking, although I knew that they could see plainly the pain in my eyes. I gave them a small smile, attempting to reassure them I'd be fine, and that I really didn't want to talk about it right now, and I could see that Nate and Jason understood, and glanced uneasily at Shane.

"We'll let you two have some time alone." Nate spoke up, taking Jason's arm and pulling him out of the room. As the doors closed behind them, Shane turned to face me, his eyes filled with sadness.

"Mitchie, I'm so sorry..." He began, but I cut him off as I reached forwards, pulling him back into a hug with my good arm and leaning my head forwards to rest on his shoulder. I couldn't help the tears that began to roll down my cheeks, or the strangled sobs that I realized were coming from myself.

He didn't speak - instead he simply rested his head on me and moved his hand up and down my back, rubbing my back comfortingly. I didn't say a word either - somehow, we both sensed that we just needed a moment of silence, and we'd be okay.

"I missed you." I whispered, and I felt Shane nod at my words.

"I've been so worried." He replied, his tone low, and I felt my heart break at his words. "Ever since I couldn't get a hold of you on your phone, I had this horrible feeling that something was wrong." At his words, I briefly realized that my dad had never given me my phone back. I frowned discreetly, wondering why he'd even taken it in the first place. This made me question even more so my father's strange actions. Why had he taken my cell phone at all? Why hadn't he wanted me to call Shane?

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts, I didn't notice the bright white cast on Shane's leg until I glanced over at him again. Now that I think about it, he was limping awkwardly when he walked in. I gasped, my eyes stuck on the cast.

"What happened?" I asked, instantly worried, but Shane simply shook his head.

"Don't worry about me - I'm fine. I just had a little accident during a concert." He realized too late it was the wrong thing to say, seeing as my eyes widened as I stared at him, horrified. He cleared his throat, before he began speaking again.

"I have to tell you something." Shane's voice broke me out of my thoughts, and I pulled away, our eyes meeting as I waited for him to continue. "On our way here, outside the hospital..." He hesitated, still looking confused, and I had to nod before he continued. "There was this blond kid, who told me that he needed me to tell you something." I froze - Seth.

"What did he say?" I asked, leaning forwards as I waited eagerly to hear Shane's response. I noticed Shane was surprised by my response, since his eyebrows arched and he looked even more baffled.

"You know who I'm talking about?" He asked, his tone sounding rather surprised, and I nodded briefly.

"It's a long story which I'll tell you in a minute." I replied, hesitatingly. Shane nodded, seemingly satisfied with my response, for now at least.

"He said that he needs to meet up with you - somewhere _he's_ not, I believe he added - and he told me that you shouldn't trust him. Whoever '_he_' is." I faltered, dropping back against the pillows on my bed as I pondered over what Seth had said. _Don't trust him._ Of course he meant my father by 'him', I knew that much, but none of this was adding up, or making any sense.

"I don't even know what to think anymore." I admitted, covering my face with my hands as I drew in a shaky breath. Shane, obviously confused and worried, leaned forwards, taking one of my hands into his own.

"Tell me what's going on, Mitchie, please." His tone of voice told me that he was nervous - he didn't know what in the world was going on, except for the fact that it upset me. I took a deep breath and opened my mouth to tell him everything - all the strange things that had happened since the car crash.

The sound of a door being opened stopped me in my tracks. I froze, forcing a smile onto my face as the figure stepped into the room. I sensed Shane's confusion, and saw him glancing between me and my dad, his hand still gripping mine. I tightened my grip, my heart racing. I saw Shane's eyes flicker back to me, and I knew that he knew something was up, and was ready to jump to his feet in an instant if I gave the word.

Why was I so afraid? My dad had never once lifted a finger towards me - why was I suddenly so on edge and doubtful of him? For some unknown reason, I was terrified - something about the look in my father's eyes when he'd screamed at Seth had not been pleasant at all, and had even suggested that he was... _dangerous. _

My father glanced towards Shane, quickly masking his expression before I could get any hints as to if he might blow up again on us. I truly hoped he wouldn't - I could only imagine how Shane would react, and how his actions would anger my dad even more. I knew Shane wouldn't back down, and I didn't want to even imagine what would happen in a situation like that. Sometimes, Shane was too stubborn for his own good.

Both Shane, and my dad, turned to stare at me. I could see Nate and Jason behind him, looking watchful and dubiously at his back, as if they weren't quite sure who he was, or what to do. It was obvious they didn't trust him - which, unbeknown to them, they had good reason to.

"Hey." My voice cracked, although I wasn't sure whether it was because I afraid, or because I hadn't had anything to drink since I'd woken up. I paused, taking another breath and attempting to steady my voice. "Dad, this is Shane." I nodded towards Shane, who had narrowed his eyes somewhat suspiciously, and then towards my dad. "Shane, this is my dad."

Shane reached out his free hand, not bothering to stand up, and waited for my dad to step forwards and shake it. My dad, his face still masked, forced a smile onto his face, shaking Shane's outstretched hand, with a 'Nice to meet you' forced from his lips, before he turned to me.

"Forgive my rudeness, but I really need to speak to Mitchie... alone." My grip on Shane's hand tightened even more, and I knew Shane felt it, because he turned to glance at me, confused but understanding that something was up, and he wasn't going to leave me.

"Whatever you have to say can be said in front of Shane," I replied, meeting my father's eyes firmly. He drew in a sharp breath, obviously not pleased by what I'd said, but simply nodded, looking rather awkward as he glanced sideways at Shane.

"I'm sorry about what happened earlier," He began, still looking uncomfortable with the fact Shane was in the room - but I didn't care, because I needed Shane here. I didn't want to be in the room alone with him, not yet, anyways. "I should have reacted differently, but I was... _surprised._" He looked truly sorry, and I sighed, some of the tension leaving my body. Maybe everything had just been a big misunderstanding. Maybe I had just overreacted over nothing.

Shane must have noticed my change in posture, because some of the suspicion left his eyes, although he still looked just as worried as he had from the moment my dad had stepped foot into the room. I smiled at him reassuringly, and I saw my dad flinch out of the corner of my eye.

"It's ok, Dad. We all make mistakes." I replied slowly, smiling at him also. Some of the tension left his eyes, and I could see him visibly relax. He smiled, coming forwards again, and I leaned forwards as he pulled me into a gentle hug. And just like that, he was forgiven. I wondered why I'd ever doubted him in the beginning.

Oh, that's right. _Seth_. Unwillingly, my mind flashed back to Seth's terrified expression as my father yelled, and I closed my eyes, sucking in a breath quickly. In two seconds, my thoughts swirled back to earlier. What was going on between them? I had to talk to Seth, as soon as possible.

"But please, Mitchie," I broke out of my thoughts, realizing that Dad was speaking again, "Just know that you need to stay away from Seth. You don't know what happened, and I think it's best you avoid him at all costs." Too bad his words were in vain - the moment I was able to, I was going to find Seth. No matter what my father said. I saw Shane's eyes narrow, probably ready to jump to my defense if this 'Seth' my dad mentioned happened to come within a hundred feet of me. I'd have to explain to him later that I didn't think Seth was any problem at all - despite my father's words.

I nodded, to show my father that I had heard, and lowered my eyes so as to avoid meeting his determined gaze. I heard him sigh, and suddenly he was beside me, his hand on my chin, lifting my head up so I could glance up at him.

"Mitchie, dear, I know you don't understand now, but please, trust me." He begged, his tone soft, and I closed my eyes, breathing in his sharp scent. _Daddy_. The word unwillingly popped into my head, reminding me of the father that had just walked back into my life after three years, and how much I'd missed him in those lonely years. "You have to believe me." His voice was barely a whisper, and I had to fight to keep tears from falling down my face at his tone. He was practically begging, sounding desperate, and I couldn't resist.

"Yes, Daddy, I do." I replied, my voice cracking, and I saw my father smile sadly at me as he pulled away, retreating from me once again, shoving his hands back into his pockets.

"I have to go, dear, but I'll be back later." He grinned at me, somewhat suspiciously, but I was too caught up in the previous moment to do anything other than nod dumbly. "Good to meet you Shane." He nodded curtly towards Shane, who returned the movement, and then Dad turned and left.

The moment he was gone, the door closed firmly behind him, Shane turned to me, his eyes full of unanswered questions.

"Mitchie." His tone was serious, nervous, and ultimately, confused. "What in the world is going on here?"

* * *

_[Shane's POV]_

**I **couldn't believe my ears. Maybe I was delirious, hopelessly confused, or missing something, because Mitchie's story sounded like a foreign language to me. Or maybe it wasn't her story so much as the fact that she was defending him, even comfortable with him, after everything she'd just told me. Nothing made sense about the whole situation.

"Hang on a second," I interrupted, and she immediately broke off, stopping to glance at me. "That Seth kid - is he the one from outside the hospital earlier? Blond hair, blue eyes..." I asked, and Mitchie nodded, her gaze unwavering.

"Yes." She replied simply, before she continued on, recalling the day's past events. I closed my eyes, trying to allow all of this newly acquired information sink in, and Mitchie paused, a sad smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but before she could get a word out, the door to the room was opened, and a doctor in a long white coat came in, looking rather rushed. Mitchie and I both turned to stare at him, and he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then re-opened them before he began to talk.

"Mr. Gray, I need to talk to Miss Torres privately, please." He asked quietly, and I moved to get up, when Mitchie's grip on my hand tightened.

"I want him to stay, please." Mitchie's voice was low, and nervous, and so helpless. The doctor breathed a sigh, no doubt noting the panic in Mitchie's voice, before nodding, and I squeezed Mitchie's hand gently, letting her know that everything would be okay, and that I wasn't going anywhere.

"Very well. I've just come to inform you that your Aunt is out of surgery, and she's awake. She's asking for you." Mitchie straightened at the doctor's words, looking both happy yet afraid, and I understood her response. She closed her eyes, her hand gripping mine tighter, before she spoke.

"Can I go see her?" Her voice was low, frightened, and child-like. The doctor nodded slowly, looking as if he probably wasn't supposed to allow her to move from her bed, but was making an exception because of the situation.

"Normally, I would say no, because patients aren't usually allowed out of their beds, especially ones that are you state." I saw Mitchie flinch, her eyes dropping down to her hands as the doctor continued speaking. "However, under the circumstances, of course you may see her." He looked like he wanted to deny her, but didn't have the heart to, and I heard Mitchie exhale loudly.

"Then let's go."

* * *

_[Mitchie's POV]_

**M**y heart was pounding in my chest as Shane gingerly helped me into the wheelchair that Dr. Long had provided for me, simply stating that it was the only way I could go see Aunt Clara, since he refused to allow me to walk. I hadn't argued - I needed to see Aunt Clara, I needed to tell her that I was sorry. I had to apologize - for everything.

I gasped as pain shot through my body, despite how careful Shane and I were being, as Shane helped me to lower myself into the wheelchair. My hands subconsciously found the handles and gripped them tightly, trying to wish away the pain. The doctor grimaced, telling me silently that this was part of the reason he hadn't wanted me to leave the room. I, as usual, ignored him. I was going to see Aunt Clara, even if I had to have Shane help me to break out of my room and into hers - I had to see her.

Satisfied that I was as okay as I would be at the moment, Shane moved behind me, his hands gently maneuvering the wheelchair from the room, his expression pained, as if he thought that every movement he made only caused me more pain. If only he could see how gentle he was being, and how grateful I was for that fact.

Dr. Long led the way down the bland white corridor, past the rows of rooms, Shane on his heels. I tried to calm myself - to mentally prep myself for what I would have to deal with once we reached Aunt Clara's room - and tell myself that no matter how bad it appeared, everything would be alright. Or at least, I tried to convince my brain of that unproven fact - it didn't work.

"We're almost there," Dr. Long informed us, glancing back to see how we were doing. I attempted to smile so he wouldn't notice the extreme pain I was in, but his look told me he saw right through me. "Just a few more rooms to go." He tried to smile - maybe in an attempt to make a joke - but neither of us even began to return the gesture. I was too preoccupied with trying not to cry at the pain coming from my injured arm and back, and Shane was deathly silent behind us. I wished I could turn around and see his face, so I would have some insight into what he was thinking, but he remained quiet, preoccupied with some thought.

Dr. Long stopped in front of us, and in turn, Shane slowly drew the wheelchair to a gentle halt. Dr. Long stood in front of the doorway, his hand on the knob, still glancing at me uncertainly.

"I'd just like to prep you before we go into the room, if you don't mind." He cleared his throat quietly, looking slightly worried as he observed my pale face and noticed I was only half-conscious. The strain on me both mentally and physically was catching up to me, and I wasn't in any state to fight it off. No, this time, it was winning.

He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again, looking thoughtful, before he continued. "Just know that her survival chances are looking very good, so you don't need to go worrying any more so than you already are, despite how things look, okay?" He asked, and I nodded quietly, mentally preparing myself for what was on the other side of that door.

With a single twist, the door flew open at Dr. Long's touch, and Shane cautiously wheeled me into the room. I sucked in a sharp breath, my heart jumping into my throat as I met Aunt Clara's eyes.

To say that she looked terrible would be an understatement. Bandages wrapped around multiple parts of her body - a small white bandage wrapped around her forehead - and wires were hooked up to her arms and legs and the rest of her... She looked so weak and helpless, lying there with scars running down her face and hands and above her eye. I closed my eyes, trying hard not to allow the tears to pour down my cheeks, and Aunt Clara herself looked close to tears.

"Mitchie." She groaned, and Shane pushed me closer, until I was able to reach out and grasp her fragile hand in my own. At her soft whisper, I couldn't help the sob that escaped from my throat, and Aunt Clara sighed.

"I'm sorry." I choked out, "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry about everything - about before, about arguing while we were on the road, about everything I've ever done that was wrong. I'm so, so sorry." I was tripping over my words, my speech hindered by the sobs racking my body, and Aunt Clara weakly tried to shake her head.

"Mitchie, please, stop." She said softly, her hand gripping mine tightly. "This isn't your fault-" She glanced at me pointedly. Maybe she was a mind reader, or maybe she could just see the guilt in my eyes. "...and you've already apologized once too many times, dear." She attempted to laugh, although I couldn't seem to find _anything_ humorous at all about this situation. "I'm just glad you're okay." She glanced at my arm as she said it, eyeing the cast and sling sadly, before she closed her eyes shut tightly.

"I'm glad you're okay, too." I whispered in return, and her sympathetic green eyes once again slid to meet mine. I fought back the painful emotions rushing through me, although I couldn't stop myself from trembling. "And I really am sorry." I apologized again, despite what she'd just said. Her comforting words couldn't erase the truth that the accident was mostly on account of my own fault. I shouldn't have been arguing with her, I shouldn't have lost my temper, I shouldn't have reacted so horribly.

Aunt Clara's hand reached out, her hand on my chin, lifting my head until my eyes met hers - a strikingly similar motion to the one my father had made just a little while ago. Somehow, this time it felt more comforting, more... _real_, and I relaxed, allowing myself a moment's bit of silence.

"Mitchie, dear, I _order_ you to stop blaming yourself. " Her tone was gentle, and she searched my eyes, no doubt noting the tears leaking from the corners of them, and I could see my emotions reflected back in her own expression.

"Miss Torres," Dr. Long broke the moment, causing me to pull away, leaning back in the wheelchair as I turned my head to look at him. "Miss Thomsin in is need to rest. You may come back again tomorrow, if you wish." He informed me, and I nodded, both to show him that I had heard, and that I would be coming back as soon as possible. There was so much more I wanted to say, but Shane was already gently wheeling me back, towards the door. I stared back at Aunt Clara, ignoring the pain that twisting my neck caused, and I saw Aunt Clara smile at me gently, reasurringly. Satisfied, I turned back around, releasing the strain from my neck, and sighed.

Maybe, just maybe, I would allow myself to believe that things would be okay.


End file.
